The Bittersweet
by Katharra
Summary: LOTR/BtVS. Sequel to Ripple Effect. Ch. 15 - This is what happens when the Slayer sleeps in.
1. Leave

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DREAMS OF A WORLD GONE MAD

Buffy's spidey senses were tingling. Literally, for there were mammoth sized spiders scurrying in the treetops above her, tracking her every movement. While she blindly raced through a forest she knew nothing about, she found her mind wandering onto ridiculous subjects. Dawn screamed whenever she encountered the tiniest spider, but under current conditions it suddenly made sense to Buffy why people suffered from arachnophobia. Of course, on her earth they didn't come the size of large dogs, but still…

A behemoth black body dropped mere inches away from her face and without a second thought Buffy jump-kicked the beast. The spider flew through the air with all eight legs flailing and the young Slayer was sure she even heard it yelp. Were spiders supposed to make audible noises? It took the creepiness factor of the situation several notches higher.

She was running again, avoiding fallen logs and strategically placed webs. She didn't have a clue where she was or where she was even running too, but instincts bade her to continue. 

She had awoken the day before and upon opening her eyes it took her several minutes to convince herself that she wasn't in an elaborate dream. When realization settled in, she fully expected to find herself surrounded by medieval men or handsome elves. But as she wandered in relative silence, she found herself facing an unusual foe: her own discomfort with being alone. She called out at first, but remembering the orcs that had landed in Sunnydale she decided that perhaps spy-mode would be more appropriate. She muttered to herself, trying to sort out her predicament and imagining what Giles would have said. She could hear his voice in her mind; 'oh interdimensional portals are a fascinating subject…' then he'd probably go on to reminisce over some ultra-boring historical fact about portals. He would follow it by babbling: 'well, it's rather a simple thing to retrieve Buffy, we need only to…' but that was as far as she ever got. She didn't know the simple solution. Giles was undoubtedly researching like a librarian on a caffeine overdose by now. That is, if he even knew that she was missing.

She shook the thought out of her head and started humming eighties tunes to keep her mind off of depressing thoughts. Just as she was reaching the chorus for "Don't You Forget About Me", she encountered one of the ugliest things she'd ever seen.

And they were either extremely territorial or they had a hankering for Slayer meat. She grunted as she hurled her body over a downed tree, yearning for a really big axe or sword or even a steamroller. With unreal agility for something so disgusting, a spider flew out of the bushes and at her body. Buffy fell to her side, biting back her revulsion as she tangled with four pairs of multi-jointed arms (legs, whatever). The prickly hairs of the spider irritated her hands but they were the least of her worries as she stared up into its face where two gleaming fangs snapped together at her. They were definitely after Slayer kabobs. 

With her right hand clutching the thing's neck, her left hand searched the ground for a very large rock. She grasped a large tree branch and swung at its head, then she placed her feet under its body and vaulted the spider off of her. She flipped herself upright and spared a moment to wrinkle her nose at the writhing creature a few metres away.

"And hot guys come from this place? I must've took a wrong turn somewhere."

She began running again, ignoring the tingling sensation in her hands.

The two elvish horses snorted softly, as if to draw their riders' attention. Aragorn patted his loaned Mirkwood steed reassuringly, murmuring soft words of content in the horse's ear. The horse nodded its head and continued at a steady pace. Legolas' horse, however, did not receive such comforting treatment.

"Where do you propose we hunt today?" Aragorn asked in an effort to rouse the Prince. 

Legolas' mind was anywhere but at the present. Since their return, the Prince had been unusually inattentive. The entire Kingdom had celebrated their safe homecoming the night before, but Legolas had retired early into the festivities. Thranduil made excuses about the Prince being overwhelmed by their traumatic experience, which in part was true. But Aragorn rightly suspected that Legolas' heart remained elsewhere.

Legolas had initially declined Aragorn's invitation to hunt. Lord Elrond had taken the opportunity through his emergency visit to Mirkwood as a means to discuss current affairs in Middle Earth with King Thranduil. Elrond had instigated the hunting idea with Aragorn as a way to draw Thranduil's attention off his son and onto pressing matters. Aragorn should also have thanked the King, for it was Thranduil's stern suggestion that forced Legolas into the silent riding he was now in.

Which was not necessarily a good thing, now that he thought about it.

"Your brothers spoke of wargs travelling through Mirkwood."

His comment brought forth a distracted hum from Legolas.

"They also mentioned a reward for drowning the youngest Prince of Mirkwood and creating the impression that it was an accident."

Followed by yet another hum. 

Aragorn reined his horse in and blocked the path of Legolas, forcing the elf to meet his eyes. "Legolas, stop this."

The blonde-haired elf screwed up his face in indignation. "Stop what, Aragorn?"

Aragorn rolled his eyes and huffed. "This incessant moping of yours. It's very unbecoming."

Legolas sneered at him. "And we couldn't have that, now could we?" He backed his horse up and led it around Aragorn's flank. He continued on without a spare glance at the Ranger, when Aragorn raised his voice.

"We did not belong there."

Legolas' white horse stopped, but the elf did not turn around to meet the man's steady gaze. Legolas' reply was so soft that Aragorn barely heard it. "What would you have me do?"

Aragorn rode his horse to draw up alongside Legolas once again. "Return to me and your people. In body _and_ in spirit."

The two sat in silence, with Aragorn smiling sadly at Legolas' downtrodden face. Then Legolas' eyebrows furrowed as he brought his gaze upwards.

"Why is it silent here?"

The calm of the forest suddenly hit Aragorn as well. His sword rang softly as he drew it slowly from its scabbard. "Perhaps your brothers were right."

Legolas drew his bow and arrow from the quiver on his back. "Perhaps they were."

As if to confirm their misgivings, the horses snorted and patted the ground restlessly. With gentle coercing, the two nudged the horses forward, albeit cautiously.

A tap on Aragorn's shoulder made him jump, but he relaxed slightly as he saw it was only rain. Or at least, that's what he initially thought it to be. The glassy surface remained on his shoulder without being absorbed into his cloak. The Ranger frowned deeply as he poked a finger into it and came away with a sticky goop covering it. 

Legolas was studying him with interest. "Spiders." He said in his characteristically soft-spoken manner.

Aragorn nodded. "I hate spiders." He whispered.

For the first time since his return, Legolas smiled openly at him. "Try living here."

Aragorn spared a quick smirk in the elf's direction before giving his horse a commanding heel to urge it forward. He didn't get very far when he heard Legolas beckoning him back.

"Wait," he said, holding a hand in the air as he stared at the ground. He dismounted and pushed his horse away until he could see the ground clearly. He crouched low to study an odd looking track in the rich dirt, confusion painting his marble features. 

"What is it?" Aragorn asked as he leaned in over the elf's shoulder.

"I don't know." Legolas answered truthfully. A snapping twig to their left drew their attention. They looked at each other for but a moment before dashing off in the direction of the sound. Aragorn was a fast runner, but he could not keep up to the litheness of one of Mirkwood's archers. Legolas flew over the ground with speed comparable to a deer, and Aragorn nearly lost him as the Prince cleared a fallen log and seemed to disappear.

Panting, Aragorn slowed down a few feet away from Legolas, who was standing very still. "Legolas?" Aragorn prompted.

"Sweet Elbereth." Legolas breathed. He dropped to the earth on his knees, and it now became very clear to Aragorn that Legolas was cradling a limp body in his arms. As Aragorn cautiously stepped up behind Legolas, he drew in a shocked gasp.

"Buffy."


	2. Fear

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Anyone reading this story for the first time will probably be a little clueless until they read the first part Ripple Effect. It's on the Buffy Crossover section. Trust me, it might clear things up a bit.

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The Neverending Harbour

Aragorn performed as much of an examination as he could with Legolas refusing to give up his hold on Buffy. For his part, Legolas stared at the unconscious Slayer and held her body as close as he could to his chest. He shifted her torso until her head was cradled in the crook of his left arm so his right hand could push back a wisp of blond hair that stuck to her forehead. He let his hand linger on her cheek as he frowned with deep worry.

Aragorn grimaced as he turned over her palms. "Spider venom." He announced. 

Legolas followed his gaze down to her swollen palms that had angry red bumps covering the skin. 

"She must have touched the hairs on the body." Aragorn surmised.

Legolas nodded; being an outsider, Buffy would have no knowledge of the poisonous creatures. Every Elf in Mirkwood took great pains to avoid the arachnids, particularly those that had suffered the nasty effects of a spider encounter. He shook his head; whatever conceptions Buffy had ever had of his home must be tainted by now. If only he'd known she was here…

"We should get her to the healers. My father could help." Aragorn suggested.

Legolas nodded and lifted the petite woman with great care. In one quick move so as not to jostle her, Legolas slung her up on the horse and mounted behind her, clutching her in one hand and the reins in another.

They rode at a soft trot in complete silence. Legolas stole quick glances at Buffy, who made no signs of life. He knew that the poison would eventually wear off; that was not what troubled him so deeply. It was not knowing how long she had been in Mirkwood, how she came to be there and how long she had been running blindly that made his heart pang with guilt.

His father stared at the young mortal woman in Legolas' arms with a mixture of surprise and misgiving. He switched glances from the girl to Legolas and back again and without asking Legolas to explain her presence, summoned the healers forward. Elrond also came forward, with a much darker look on his face than Thranduil's. He followed the healers as they took the lithe woman from the Prince's arms but when Legolas moved to follow them, Thranduil blocked his way with an outstretched arm. 

"We will speak on this matter as soon as she is out of harm's way."

Legolas gave one nod, knowing that their forthcoming talk would not be an easy one. He loped up the stairs and hurried down the corridor, where he found curious Elves peering over one another's shoulder to get a glimpse at the human girl. He pushed past them angrily, glaring at one Elf who was whispering loudly to two others concerning the 'feebleness' of mortal women. 

He found Aragorn standing behind his father, holding a steaming bowl of herb-infused water, which Elrond was lathering onto Buffy's hands. His father's own healer was gently examining her body for fractures and bruises. He leaned in closely to Buffy's face, prying open her eyelids to check her reaction to light. Legolas couldn't help but stand over the healer, hoping that once Buffy's eyes had been forcefully opened, she might keep them that way on her own accord. Despite his hopes, as soon as the healer released her eyelid it closed slowly and remained that way. 

The healer placed his hands underneath her head and felt the vertebrae in her neck, replacing it carefully on the rolled pillow beneath her. The tall healer stood suddenly, and Legolas had to take a step back to avoid colliding with the Elf. 

"No injuries save for the spider venom. Lord Elrond has taken care to draw some of the venom out and place a salve on her hands." The healer informed him.

Legolas fidgeted with his hands nervously. "What about the rest of the venom?"

The Elf eyed him severely, as if Legolas were an oblivious Elfling. "It will do what it naturally does."

Legolas stared blankly at the healer.

The healer positively harrumphed at the Prince's ignorance. "It will work its way out, just as it does with all Elves." He strode out of the room indignantly, muttering about certain Elves losing all intelligent capabilities merely at the sight of a _mortal woman_. 

Had Legolas been in his right mind, he would have scoffed at the healer's disrespectful attitude. But as it were, he could do nothing more than to scoop the young woman up in his arms and lead her past the whispering Elves that crowded the doorway, ignoring their shocked gasps and gossip-laden words.

Buffy felt more comfortable than she had in ages. The sheer feeling of it made her snuggle down further into the bed, drawing the thick blankets up around her neck and turning onto her side to press her face into the pillows. She would have remained that way all day if the thought hadn't occurred to her that these weren't her pillows.

Her eyes snapped open. With a confused frown, Buffy studied the pillows, then the blankets, then the silk shirt she was wearing. She did not recall taking off her clothes…

She darted up in the bed and gasped. This was not her room. Not that it wasn't a nice room – she lay in an enormous bed encased in a black oak bedframe, at the foot of the bed sat an ornately carved chest of the same wood, live vines covered the inside of the round-ceiling room and at the other end was a crackling fire that smelt of burnt incense. 

"Oh, you're awake!"

Buffy's head spun sideways to find the source. Her eyes rested on a tentative young woman hesitating outside the bedroom door. She took a shy step around the door and closed it quickly, then stood smiling meekly at Buffy.

She was tall and lithe, with blonde wavy hair that flowed gently to her waistline. She wore a tiara made of branches that criss-crossed to form a Celtic design of sorts. She wore a long grey dress with armsleeves that flared dramatically and a silver metal belt that hung loosely on her hips. She carried a dark green bundle in her hands; Buffy sincerely wished that those were her missing clothes.

"I brought these for you." As if reading her mind, the girl placed the bundle at the end of Buffy's bed. When she bent over her hair parted slightly revealing a distinctive point at the tip of the earlobe. Buffy's eyes widened.

"You're an Elf."

The girl straightened and smiled warmly at Buffy. "My name is Galsila."

"That's pretty." Buffy commented. She became confused again. "But you're an Elf."

Galsila laughed; it was musical. "Yes, I thought we'd established that."

"But if you're an Elf…" Buffy trailed off as she stared into her hands with a frown.

Galsila looked her over in concern. "Do you know where you are, madam?"

Buffy looked up at Galsila with bewilderment plainly painted on her face. "Yeah…well, sort of…I mean…no." She gave up with a throw of her hands in the air.

"You're in Mirkwood." Galsila said reassuringly. "No harm can come to you here." She unfolded the bundle and began straightening out the dark green dress, similar to hers. "You're quite lucky you know. If it hadn't been for my brother and Elrond's son, well, we may have never found you until you were woven into a cocoon."

Buffy was now taking the time to rub the sleep out of her eyes. "Who's your brother?" She said tiredly.

"Legolas."

Buffy's hand froze as her heart stopped, then started up rapidly. "Legolas?"

Legolas could not gaze into his father's stormy eyes for very long. The two sat across from each other at a long wooden table in the King's darkened council room. The council, Legolas noted, was not present. It was just the father and the son.

When Legolas thought he would explode from the silent face-off, his father spoke in a steady deep voice.

"I assume you know her."

Legolas nodded quickly. "Her name is Buffy Summers."

Thranduil's darkened eyebrows shot up in surprise as he mouthed the odd name silently to himself. He gave his head a quick shake as if to calm his nerves, then started again. "She came from this…this world that you and Aragorn were trapped in?"

Legolas winced at the word 'trapped'. "Yes." He said slowly. "She aided us in returning home."

Thranduil nodded then stopped. His eyebrows furrowed as he studied Legolas. "Aided? She…aided _you_?"

Legolas searched the table for an answer that might be engraved in its surface. "Yes."

Thranduil leaned back in his stately chair and folded his hands in his lap. "Is she a sorceress of some kind?"

Legolas shrugged one shoulder. "No, she's a Slayer."

"She's a what?"

"A Vampire Slayer." Legolas answered simply.

Thranduil sat up sharply and glared at his youngest son. "If you are going to make a mockery of me-"

"I'm not making a mockery of you." Legolas answered quickly and apologetically. "That is what she is called on her world."

That seemed to relax Thranduil somewhat, for he leaned back in his chair again. "So she is considered a warrior then."

Legolas nodded. Thranduil laughed openly. Legolas cast a dark glance in his father's direction, then stared down at the tabletop again while biting his tongue to refrain from lecturing his own King. Thranduil rose from the table, still chuckling over what he thought was a humorous joke. Legolas also pushed himself away from the table and followed his father to the door.

"I suspect you are in need of rest." Thranduil prompted while opening the door.

"I think I shall go see Buffy first."

Thranduil slammed the door shut and Legolas knew he had treaded foolishly. "You will not see her tonight." The King said sternly. "She does not need your company. Not tonight. She is still suffering the effects of the venom, I should think."

"Galsila said-"

"You will leave her be for tonight." He turned to stare down Legolas forcefully. "You will need your rest. Tomorrow you will depart with Elrond's party."

Legolas shook his head with question.

"You will need to find Gandalf if you are to help the young girl return home." Thranduil stated simply. "He has the palantir." He opened the door and left Legolas standing speechlessly. 

Galsila had been Buffy's only company; after brining her the dress the young Elf scurried off to let Buffy change. Once she had, Galsila returned with a tray filled with round pieces of bread, bits of meat and a flask with honey-flavoured wine.

Buffy stood looking out the two windowed doors that led to a balcony. She turned when Galsila walked in, placing the tray on the chest. Galsila smiled graciously at Buffy. "It fits then? I wasn't sure if it would; it's one of mine. You are much smaller than I am."

Buffy smiled too. "I don't know about smaller." She held out her arms to show Galsila that the bodice fit her perfectly. "But definitely shorter." 

Galsila's eyes traveled down to the floor, where the tips of Buffy's toes should have been able to be seen. Instead, there was at least a foot of fabric pooling at the bottom. "Oh. We shall have to find the tailor in the morning. Are you hungry?"

Buffy nodded emphatically. Drawing up the excess fabric in her hands, Buffy shuffled over to the bed and sat down, gingerly picking up a piece of bread and munching on it gratefully. "It's good." She said between mouthfuls.

"It's lembas." Galsila informed.

Buffy studied the bread thoughtfully. "I'll have to get the recipe." Then she thought it over again. "Not that I can bake or anything." She washed the bread down with a sip of wine.

"Well, I should be off." Galsila stood up quickly and headed for the door.

"Wait!" Buffy stood and nearly tripped over the hem of her dress. "I mean…you don't have to, do you? So far, you're the only person I've seen."

Galsila fumbled nervously for an answer and faltered. She stammered for a few moments then reached for the door handle behind her back. "I can't. There's just…I can't. Not yet, anyway." She opened the door but gave Buffy a kind smile. "I hope you sleep well tonight. Everything will be much clearer in the morning." She disappeared behind the closed door.

Buffy's shoulders slumped in defeat. She opened up the two windowed doors and stood on the balcony, grasping her arms in front of her as she shivered. "Clearer." She murmured as she looked up into the grey clouds above her. Thunder rolled from afar, but the cold wind that tousled her hair told her that the storm would not take long to reach her. 

It was the first time she had been on the balcony; she did not realize how high up she was. As she looked down she gasped and took a cautious step backwards. She was in a _tree_. This whole Kingdom was a mixture of tree dwellings and ground huts. Torch fires were lit up around the forest floor; Elven guards who looked strikingly like Legolas patrolled the grounds with bows stowed safely on their cloaked backs. In a great tree across from her, she saw another balcony. The doors opened and a blonde-haired Elven male stepped out onto the balcony and stared back at her. Perhaps glared was a better word for it.

The soft squeak of her door closing caught her attention. She spun around on the balcony.

"Legolas."

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A note to reviewers: I'm halfway through Harry Potter myself. Soooo exciting! Although I'm somewhat concerned right now…

Lisette: A little birdy told me that you were recommending me on one of your stories. THANK YOU!!!!


	3. Hear You Me

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ON SLEEPLESS ROADS THE SLEEPLESS GO

"Legolas." Buffy said it in disbelief, as if the Elf hanging back against the shadows may have been a hallucination.

He took a tentative step forward and paused once again, staring blankly at her with wide blue eyes. His mouth opened as if to say something, but slowly closed again as he nervously clasped his hands in front of his body.

Buffy began to fidget with the draping sleeves on her dress. "I was beginning to…I mean I thought maybe…maybe you didn't want to see me or something."

Legolas looked panicked for a moment as he stammered stupidly for an answer. "Oh, that, yes, well…it would not have been proper for me to…you were unconscious…"

"Well it's not like you had to crawl in bed with me or anything." Buffy muttered.

For one of the very rare times in his life, Legolas' face turned a bright crimson, which despite the darkness of the fire-lit room Buffy did not fail to notice. "You're cute when you're embarrassed." 

Legolas now looked positively mortified. He searched the room for something to distract her attention with. His eyes rested on the empty tray. "You ate." He stated.

Buffy nodded and smiled. Good way to change the subject. "Yeah. It was good, that bread stuff."

"Lembas." He said with his eyes twinkling. "It will help you keep your nourishment up."

Buffy nodded vigorously at him. "Definitely need that with all those freakishly mutated spiders and all."

Legolas' eyes fell to the floor. "You won't have to worry about them anymore. I would never let anything like that happen again."

Buffy suddenly realized what was transpiring. She took a step towards him and touched him lightly on the chest. "Hey. That wasn't your fault." She said as warmly as she could. "You had no way of knowing what was happening out there."

Legolas still had a deep frown on his face as he stared at her in all seriousness. "But I should have. You could have been killed."

"Hey, buddy, Slayer remember?" She pointed to herself. "You think I'm gonna let some itty bitty _spider_ take me out? I don't think so."

Legolas regained a small portion of his smile. "Well at least it didn't dampen your confidence."

Buffy waved him off. "Nah. That only happened when I got turned into a rat."

The same confusion that followed him wherever he went in Sunnydale now cast itself on his face as he stared at Buffy in mystified silence. She shook her head. "Long, long story."

"Right." Legolas nodded. "Well then, I suppose you should like to get some rest." He motioned to the bed as if he meant to tuck her in and read her a bedtime story.

"Rest? You've got to be kidding me; I've been sleeping all day! I just woke up a few hours ago. Can't we take a look around or something? I thought it would be nice if you could give me a tour." She motioned to the balcony doors with an eager smile.

Legolas looked at her sadly. "I'm afraid not. It is not safe at night."

It was Buffy's turn to look confused. "Why? I thought you said I was safe from the spiders."

"It is not the spiders that concern me." He looked at the balcony windows darkly. "Mirkwood has many dangers to be wary of, the least of all spiders." He caught Buffy staring at him, and he knew that her curious nature would press him until she discovered his true meaning. He quickly smiled again and kissed her softly on her forehead.

Any desire to find out about the 'other dangers' was suddenly dashed when she felt Legolas' lips touch her skin. She could only stare in awe as he drew his head away with a heart-melting smile. He touched her cheek softly and she was sure her knees were turning to water. It had been so long since she had felt that way…

"Good night." He began to walk away towards the door, and if Buffy was in her right mind she would have surely stopped him; or she would have least said something beyond the garbled 'gmfph' that she managed. He closed the door.

Buffy flopped on the bed with a disgusted sigh.Useless thoughts that would have been in order some minutes ago trickled out of her mouth in one continuous moan. "Good night my sweet Prince. Oh Legolas, you look fatigued, why don't you stay here tonight? Have I ever told you I want to be the mother of your child?" She whacked her head against the pillows a few times before staring up at the ceiling in a vain attempt to sleep.

Legolas closed the thick oak door as quietly as he could and he would have made a clean escape except for the invading body of an Elf blocking his path.

"Galsila." Legolas said in obvious surprise.

Galsila stood with a smoldering glare and arms crossed in front of her chest. "You know what our father decreed-"

"Yes, but-"

"And you know what the Kingdom is saying-"

"I really couldn't give-"

"And you know that you will be leaving in the morning anyway. So I do not see any point in winning over that poor girl's heart if you will only be deserting her in the end." 

A long silence followed the blunt words of his sister. "I would not desert-"

"She does not belong here Legolas." 

Galsila's words cut through his heart. "But if they could only see-"

"They won't see, brother. They are as thick-headed as he is. They only see what they want to see, and in their eyes humans are the lowest of the lot. But they have a point."

Legolas stared at her in hard anger. "Don't tell me you believe them as well."

Galsila's face softened in sympathy for him. "The fact remains Legolas. She is mortal. You are not." She left him standing mutely in the empty corridor, mulling over her words and feeling his heart tear in two. 

The rain had reached Mirkwood and was now falling in a steady sleet that tapped quietly but consistently on the roof above Buffy's bed. She didn't bother closing her eyes or even pretending to sleep; there was no way she would catch any sliver of rest now. Jumbled thoughts flitted through her mind aimlessly, but without anything to distract her from them, Buffy remained lying on the bed motionless, patting the bed with her palms in rhythm to the raindrops.

There was a soft rap on the door. Buffy didn't bother raising her head but hollered a cool "what?"

The door opened slowly and she heard a chuckle that annoyed her more than anything. "I'm not hungry or tired." She muttered.

"But obviously bored."

Buffy recognized the voice instantly and sat up exuberantly. "Aragorn!" She exclaimed, scrambling off the bed to greet the Ranger formally.

Aragorn looked her up and down with a bemused smile. "This look suits you."

Buffy gave a skeptic groan. "Mmmm, I don't know about that." She glanced down at the emerald dress, still smarting at the fact that Legolas' sister was just as tall as Legolas himself. Compared to all the Elves, she must look like a midget. She looked back at Aragorn. "Hey, you clean up nice yourself."

The human wasn't nearly as scruffy looking as when they had first met; his dark brown hair was swept off his face and for the first time Buffy noticed that his eyes were a startling blue. His black shirt and leggings were covered by a grey velvet tunic, with his sword placed as ever firmly on his hip by a low-slung belt. Buffy wondered absently if he slept with the weapon for safe keeping as well.

"Thank you." He moved to sit on the bed and Buffy joined him.

"So what are you doing here? I thought you lived somewhere else."

"My father is using the opportunity to better Rivendell's relations with Mirkwood."

"Aren't you guys already friends? I thought you and Legolas were pretty close."

Aragorn nodded but turned his eyes downward. "Legolas and I are a rarity. Legolas himself is a rarity, particularly among his own people."

Buffy looked confused. Legolas an oddball? Maybe in Sunnydale… "Why?"

Aragorn shrugged indifferently. "He befriends humans. Mirkwood Elves are notoriously untrusting of humans. Of any other creature, really." He saw her wary glance and backpedaled a bit. "Not that you can't blame them. These Elves have faced continuous threats; it's natural to be a bit…hostile."

It finally clicked with Buffy. Her face fell. "So that's why I'm not aloud to go out? That's why Legolas said it's dangerous. Not because of spiders but because of his own people. They really hate humans that much?"

Aragorn screwed up his face in doubt. "Well, I wouldn't say 'hate', that's a bit strong – wait, did you say Legolas?" Buffy nodded at him and Aragorn shook his head in disgust. "Never trust that Elf for a second…" He began to stream out Elvish words in such rapidness that Buffy was certain he was probably swearing Legolas' name.

"Why, I don't understand," Buffy started then stopped abruptly. "No, no I do understand. It's me. He's not supposed to see me, is he?"

Aragorn said nothing but placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Maybe Legolas' home wasn't such a great place after all.

Aragorn seemed to read her mind as he commented "We'll return you to Sunnydale soon."

Buffy shrugged a shoulder impassively. "Great." She muttered. Then it occurred to her, "How?"

Aragorn stood up to leave. "Through the palantir. Unfortunately Gandalf confiscated it before Thranduil could, and even more unfortunate is that he made off with it as soon as the King's back was turned. I imagine he means to take it to the Order. Legolas and I depart tomorrow to catch up with the old rogue." He commented on the wizard with a twinkle of mirth in his eye.

Buffy stood with wild eyes. "You're leaving?! Both of you?! Thanks, thanks for just leaving me here in the middle of Human Haters Anonymous. That's great, I get dumped-"

Aragorn placed both his hands on her shoulders to calm the young woman down. "You will not be harmed. The Elves here are disdainful, yes, but they are not dangerous to you." Seeing that Buffy did not look any more comforted than before, he added "Galsila seems to have taken a liking to you."

"Yay for me." She said with a half-hearted twirl of her finger. She slumped onto the bed in defeat. "I guess one out of a thousand isn't too bad."

Aragorn clutched her shoulder again tightly. "It is better than none at all. We'll hurry; I promise."

Buffy nodded noncommittally. Aragorn meant to leave, but seeing the young woman staring forlornly out the rain-splattered window tugged at his heart. "Buffy, is there anything I can do for you?"

Buffy turned her head slightly to the side and was about to answer no, when a thought occurred to her. "Can you find my clothes? It's not a big deal or anything, but those were my favourite jeans…

Aragorn stemmed her words with an upheld hand. "I will find you your clothes. It's the least I can do."

The door closed with a soft click. Buffy continued to stare out the window, but this time with a wry smile on her lips.


	4. Lamb

****

Completeness, like being here

"Could we not send a smoke signal or something of the likes?" Complained a dark-haired Elf.

Another dark-haired Elf, identical to the first gave him an annoyed shake of the head. "He's a wizard, not a Ranger. He would probably mistake it for a band of Hobbits." He began to mutter happily about Hobbits and their peculiar ways. "Odd little men, cooking one of their sixteen meals or however many they're up to now, smoking that pipe weed of theirs," then he stopped and thought about it. "Mind you, that smoke signal idea might work then…"

"We ride after him." Aragorn silenced both his adopted brothers' squabbling with a commanding voice. He faced them with a daring glint in his eye. "Unless you two are frightened of the Mirkwood forest."

Elladan gave him an impatient glare. "Aragorn, that sort of taunting hasn't worked on us for over a millennium. You'll have to do better than that."

Aragorn shrugged nonchalantly. "Very well then. Why don't you stay and entertain Legolas' brothers? I've heard they keep fascinating company."

Elladan and Elrohir both had looks of dread flash across their features. They stole a quick glance at each other and hurriedly went back to packing their gear on the horses. "Now that was a good threat," commented Elrohir in a low whisper.

Aragorn gave a victorious grin before striding over to where Legolas stood, tightening the straps on his mount. Aragorn patted the grey-speckled horse while studying the Prince. Legolas was expertly dodging his gaze.

"She will be well cared for, Legolas," he said reassuringly.

The horse gave a surprised snort and backed up a few steps as Legolas tightened a strap too snugly. Aragorn rubbed the horse's nose, but the horse still threw a mean glare at his offending would-be rider. "It's not right, Aragorn," Legolas said through gritted teeth. "He could have chosen anyone in the Kingdom, his own messengers could have gone. But he chose us." Legolas gave a cynical bark of laughter. "Strategy," he murmured. He gave an infuriated shake of his head. "The King is nothing if not strategic."

There was nothing that Aragorn could say that would ease the Elf's fuming anger towards his father besides the obvious. "Come. Let us ride out. The sooner we leave, the less time we waste in returning."

Legolas said nothing but gave another sharp tug on his horse's strap. This time he had to leap out the way to avoid getting nipped in the shoulder by the bothered steed. 

As thrilling as it was to listen to the tailor babble on about changing fashions and the scandalous dresses of mortal women, Galsila was happy to be able to deposit the older Elf at Buffy's door.

"It's just a quick hem, nothing more. I imagine she has already dressed." Galsila made to walk away but the tailor caught her by the arm. He stared slack-jawed at her in seeming panic, pointing to the door.

"Oh just knock. She's quite friendly you know." The tailor's panic had now turned into a disbelieving frown. Galsila sighed with exasperation. She muttered incoherently while knocking on the door. After several hard raps and no answer, Galsila called Buffy's name. Still no answer. 

Galsila looked back at the tailor who stared mutely in bewilderment. "Perhaps she still sleeps," Galsila surmised. "Spider venom takes longer to wear off in humans." She honestly wasn't sure about that, but as he didn't move to contradict her she felt it was a sufficient lie. Cautiously, Galsila opened the door and peered around, still calling Buffy's name to warn her of Galsila's entrance. After scanning the room quickly, Galsila flung open the door and stood with her hands on her hips.

"Well that's odd," she murmured. The tailor stepped out from behind her cautiously, glancing quickly about him. He stopped by the bed and studied an object laying on it. 

"Would it be safe to assume that she is taking a naked stroll around the Kingdom?" With one finger he held up the emerald dress that Galsila had given Buffy the day before.

Galsila stared at the piece of clothing with a questioning frown. A cool breeze rustled her blonde locks, drawing her attention to the balcony door left suspiciously ajar. Galsila's eyes widened followed by a small shriek. She darted from the room and ran down the corridor but halted in her tracks in front of a stone statue. It was a unique statue, because normally the stone warrior clasped a large metal sword in his right hand. The sword was missing. The girl was missing. And Legolas and Aragorn had just departed. Galsila could only stare at the robbed statue in a dumfounded daze.

The tailor had come up behind her. "I don't envy you, my dear Princess. Thranduil will be most displeased by this news." He hammered the point home by patting her on the back before walking away with a smile on his face.

If it was possible, and Buffy was highly doubtful that it was, but it seemed as though the graceful black horse in the stable was actually smirking at her. The plan had formulated itself in her mind the night before; barely catching any sleep Buffy went through the motions in her mind until they were perfected. She just never accounted for a smirking horse.

Suddenly quite unsure of her plan, Buffy glanced at the other horses in the stable. Some appeared to be slightly bored but nonetheless interested in her presence, others looked downright hostile. But the horse Buffy chose seemed to be daring her with a mean little glimmer in his onyx eyes. 

She had scoured the stables for a saddle and although she had been sorely disappointed not to find one, she had to admit that she wouldn't have known how to put the damn thing on the first place. She held the elegantly braided leather halter in her hand up to the horse's eyesight. 

"See this? I just need to slip it on you." The horse gave her a shake of his head as if in disbelief. Buffy took a tentative step towards it. "If you have any suggestions on how to do this, now would be a really good time to hear it." The horse snorted. "Okay, we do it my way."

The poor beast suffered through countless minutes of Buffy pulling and wrangling with the halter before she figured out how to slip its nose and ears through. Surveying her work with a confident grin, the horse gave her a disgruntled snort and turned its head away. But then she discovered another problem – how on earth was she supposed to get up on the thing? 

She acknowledged the fact early on that she didn't know the first thing about horses. Naturally, she picked the tallest, deciding that long legs were obviously a sign of great speed. But for the petite Slayer, mounting the horse proved more difficult than getting the halter on, until she came up with a truly ingenious idea.

She took a running leap. Landing not so gracefully on her chest, the horse gave a surprised whinny and backed up suddenly. Buffy struggled for the reins but pulled too tightly for the horse's liking. The next moment she found herself flung on the hay-strewn floor. Grumbling under her breath, Buffy came round to face the horse in the eye.

"Work with me here. I promise I'll never ride you again if you just do me this one favour today."

The horse seemed to contemplate the idea and found it agreeable.

Of course, it also wasn't counting on Buffy taking three more stabs at the running leap before finally succeeding.

Aragorn had never seen Legolas this distracted. The reserved Elf made continuous worried glances back towards the Kingdom. As the trip wore on, even Elrohir and Elladan became aware of the Prince's odd behaviour. His furtive looks became contagious; it wasn't long before Elrond's sons were also sneaking glances behind them.

Aragorn held up his hand in a silent command to halt. He popped off his horse and crouched low on the ground, tracing the faded hoof tracks with a Ranger's eye. He stood up, ready to report his findings to the others, but found them all to be ignoring his every move. The three Elves were not just looking behind them; they were now looking off in separate directions, each wearing the same distraught face. 

What Aragorn had originally mistaken for unawareness now became quite clear to him; they were concentrating on something that he had missed. The Ranger stole quick looks in every direction, noting the northern breeze and the scent it carried. Aragorn was about to announce his misgivings when a deliberate movement caught his eye. 

Legolas was moving his left arm in an unbelievably slow arc until it rested on his bow. With just as much calculated timing, he drew his bow and notched a brown-feathered arrow. He was aiming between Elrohir and Elladan. The two brothers stared calmly but stonily at the Elf. All movement and sound in the forest seemed to stop and the creaking of Legolas' bow being drawn to full capacity suddenly sounded deafening to Aragorn's senses. The end of the arrow grazed Legolas' chin as his eyes narrowed slightly. A reverberating twang could be heard as Legolas loosed the arrow and it soared daringly between the brown-haired Elves. 

The forest sprang to life following Legolas' mortal shot. Wargs burst from their crouched predatory positions to pounce on the messenger party with feline quickness.

Aragorn had a moment to unsheathe his sword and turn when a warg swiped, ripping a lock of his hair before Aragorn could plunge the metal into the beast's chest. His horse was rearing on its hind legs, screaming and swiping with its front hoofs in terror. Aragorn felt a quick pang of pity when his attention was directed beyond his frightened horse.

A warg had slashed open the carotid artery in Elrohir's horse. The horse gave a pained whinny before toppling over, pinning Elrohir underneath its bulk. His Elven brother struggled futilely to wrench his trapped leg free but with all his straining he couldn't move the dead weight of his horse. Aragorn was running, leaping over the fallen bodies of wargs to come to his brother's aid. Elrohir's face was a mixture of pain and frustration when Aragorn reached his side. Aragorn gave his shoulder a quick comforted pat before throwing his sword on the ground and placing his hands beneath the horse's body. 

His name was bellowed as a warning. Aragorn had seconds to lift his head up and see an approaching warg, but as the creature leapt its face contorted in mortal agony, spraying the two brothers in hot blood as it landed behind Elrohir's head. A Rivendell dagger had imbedded itself in the warg's neck. Aragorn nodded his gratitude in Elladan's direction before returning to the task of freeing Elrohir.

It was left to Elladan and Legolas to pick off the remaining wargs. Legolas stood calmly and resolutely, shifting his body and his line of sight only slightly to skewer the beasts with deadly accuracy. But he did not account for their cunning. His senses screamed a warning moments before he felt a hot lance streak through his back. Legolas grunted furiously; more in anger at himself than in actual pain. The warg that clawed his back now pivoted and made for another run. Legolas raised his bow but found that his left arm shook slightly. The warg charged.

To say that King Thranduil was exasperated would have been an understatement. The King sat in his high-backed throne with one hand covering his face. After Galsila sped through her story, the King lowered his hand revealing a face contorted in rage.

"How does a mortal…_girl_…elude the most trained and fearsome guards in Mirkwood?" His voice seethed with rage. Galsila's knees quaked beneath her dress. Thranduil stood, drawing his shoulders up until his full frame looked well over its usual height. He loomed over the guards and Galsila. "And how…please indulge me…how exactly does the same girl in question make off with _my_ horse?"

It was the stablehands turn to look horrified. The King pivoted suddenly so that his cloak billowed at them with intimidating grace. He paced furiously in front of his throne with hands clasped behind his back. "I think it is sufficient to assume that those responsible for this horrendous oversight, shall also be those to retrieve the girl."

Guards and stablehands alike poured from the throne room, grateful to be spared further punishment, but anxious to leave. Galsila made to follow.

"Galsila." 

The Princess froze upon hearing her father speak her name in his deepest tone. She turned gingerly with wide eyes. "Yes your Majesty?"

The King sighed. "Where do you think you are going?"

Galsila opened her mouth but could not find the words. Instead she pointed shyly in the direction of the streaming guards. 

Thranduil shook his head tiredly. "Do not be foolish. Return to your quarters and remain there until I give you leave. Is that understood?"

Galsila nodded mutely, initially feeling greatly relieved at not having to join her father's punished guards. But as she watched them disappear from the throne room and she moved to climb the stairwell to her quarters, she couldn't help but feel a pang of envy.

It took a moment for Legolas to register the thundering in his ears for that of swiftly approaching horse hooves. But keeping his concentration fixed firmly on the attacking warg he ignored the oncoming horse. Before he could release his arrow, a large black steed flew through his peripheral vision, and a small blur suddenly dropped in front of him, cleanly decapitating the warg before it could leap. Legolas stared dumbly at the blonde standing with her back facing him.

Buffy turned to him with a disgusted frown on her face. "Let me guess. Mirkwood's idea of a rat?"

Legolas shook his head. "Warg."

Buffy nodded as if she knew what he was talking about. 

Legolas turned his head to the black horse staring wildly about. As realization set in, so did the appalling look on his face. "Buffy, is that my-"

"Aragorn!" Buffy shouted before loping off. The Ranger was straining to lift a dead horse while Elladan had his arms clasped around Elrohir's chest, pulling his brother out from under the mount. Elrohir stood on shaky legs, leaning back against his brother for support. Aragorn was kneeling in front of him, inspecting the leg and gently prodding it while Elrohir sucked in a breath. 

"Can you place your weight on it?" Aragorn asked seriously.

Elrohir's face was a mask of pain. "Barely," he said through clenched teeth.

"We need to return him to the healers," Elladan stated.

Aragorn and Legolas shared a quick glance. "What of Gandalf?" Legolas asked quietly.

The group shared troubled looks. "We could split up," suggested Buffy.

Aragorn shook his head slowly. "It would be too dangerous. There may be more of them out there."

"Well, isn't that the point?" Buffy questioned. "I mean, your friend is out there with those things by himself. We should try and help him."

A heavy silence fell over them as they weighed the possible threats. "We may not have time to consider our best course of action," Elrohir said in a low voice.

Aragorn looked up at him.

Elrohir nodded with his head in the direction behind Aragorn. "Another pack approaches."


	5. Minstrel Song

****

IN THE RANKS OF DEATH

Without words between them, the five warriors backed into a protective circle, Elladan keeping a supportive arm around Elrohir's waist as he valiantly tried to balance on one foot while yielding a sword. 

"We may yet have a chance," Aragorn whispered. "There are enough horses to take four back."

"We leave no one behind!" Legolas cried.

Menacing growls growing ever closer made the group draw inward until their shoulders were touching one another. 

"We need not leave anyone behind," Aragorn protested. "Elrohir and Elladan will travel together. On your father's horse."

Buffy was suddenly quite glad that they were far more concerned with the approaching wargs than to pay attention to her; she was blushing furiously as she finally realized her choice in steed was none other than the King's own.

Elladan threw a wayward glance at Aragorn's back. "And what of you?"

"We will provide what cover we can until we, too, are forced to run."

There were no words spoken among them, but there needn't have been. Given the circumstances, it was their best chance at survival. 

Elrohir's brows suddenly knitted together. "What of the girl?"

Elladan scoffed at him. "She will ride out with us, of course."

Buffy held her stolen sword in front of her, not bothering to spare a hot glance in their direction. "I can fight."

Elrohir and Elladan shared ludicrous looks between them before turning to question Aragorn silently with piercing gazes. Aragorn ignored their looks. Legolas was staring intently at Buffy.

"She can fight." Aragorn simply stated. 

The quick exchange of words between the Rivendell Elves that only Legolas heard made him grimace slightly. They seemed to resign themselves to the fact that Aragorn would not have it any other way, even the most sensible way. There was a long audible sigh from Elladan before he spoke again. "Just give us the signal, brother."

The forest was shouting its warning to Legolas' ears. The leaves quaked as immense bodies moved beneath their cover. Twigs snapped and exposed roots creaked as large padded feet crept over them slowly, prolonging the warriors' anticipation of battle. The wait was nerve-wracking, nearly debilitating for Buffy who was so used to the impatient and rushed fighting style of vampires. 

"Legolas, can you see your father's horse?" Aragorn whispered.

Legolas squinted. "Ai," he nodded his head in the direction of the black horse, standing very still in the distant and densely covered brush. The horse was wary, shifting on its front legs nervously and scanning the area in front of it with wild eyes.

"Can you signal it?" Aragorn asked.

Legolas threw a glance at Aragorn. "Ai," he answered softly.

Aragorn nodded, setting his jaw rigidly as two yellow eyes in the bush in front of him made their appearance. "Then do so," he raised his sword.

"NOW!"

The wargs jumped at the same time that Legolas whistled shrilly. The black horse whinnied and kicked with its hindquarters, then galloped towards them with such speed and fierceness that Legolas and Buffy were forced to leap to the side. Elladan grabbed the black mane as it swept by, hoisting himself up and grasping his brother's outstretched hand. Elrohir relied on his brother's straining strength to take his place behind him on the large horse. With a quick nudge and shouting words of encouragement, the horse was off, but not before Elrohir threw a concerned glance at the other three left behind.

Buffy threw herself at the wargs just as violently as they did to her. She had never fought something of the likes; it was as though a bear, lion and wolf had been combined into one. The last time she saw the likes of those animals was in the L.A. zoo, and they weren't trying to rip her heart out. She crouched as one flew at her head, then sprung on her feet to catch its chest with her shoulder. She used the momentum to fling the creature far and wide of her, but as she turned to see where it landed a stinging pain seared in her shoulder.

A long line of blood dripped where a warg had caught her unaware. The warg was pacing the ground beside her, lifting its lips to reveal long yellowed fangs that oozed saliva. 

Buffy seethed with the same amount of anger that the creature did. "You stupid little sorry-assed son-of-a-"

A finely shot arrow hit the warg in the back of the skull. With a dying growl its legs stiffened and its tongue rolled out of its mouth, then it hit the ground with a rigid thud. 

Buffy glanced at Legolas with an offended look. "I had that one, you know!"

Legolas had abandoned his bow and arrow for his long handled knives, twirling them dangerously at the two wargs he was grappling with. "I know," he muttered.

"Legolas!" Aragorn bellowed as he sunk his sword deeply into the torso of a warg. He was covered with blood and grime; his own hair and kicked up dirt stuck to his face with the aid of his sweat-beaded brow. "Call the others!"

Legolas nodded and slashed quickly at a warg, then whistled an impossibly high note that sailed throughout the wooded area. He could sense the overwhelming terror of the horses but true to their Elvish breeding the Mirkwood horses ran towards the center of their fears, towards them. One warg whirled, alerted to the sound of the thundering hooves and it moved to pounce on their only means of escape. Legolas threw his knife; it twirled blade over handle in dizzying succession until it found its mark, piercing the warg between the shoulder blades. 

"Buffy!" He called.

Buffy finished slashing at a warg to acknowledge Legolas. He was motioning to her then to the horses. She understood and began running towards him. Somehow he must have known that mounting horses was not her forte. As the horse neared Legolas' side and Buffy was within his reach, he grabbed the mane of the horse with his right hand and with his left he scooped up Buffy by her waist and swung up onto the horse. He sat her in front of him, taking her hands and placing them onto the grey mane of his speckled horse. He turned the horse back around and kicked it to a high gallop.

"She knows the way back to the Kingdom. Do not stop until you have reached the bridge!" He shouted in her ear. And with that he leapt down from the horse and began running into the mess of the battle again.

Buffy knew enough of horses to make it stop. The mare threw her head back uncertainly, stamping the ground with jittered hooves. "What are you doing?"

Legolas didn't bother turning around. "I must help Aragorn!"

Buffy didn't move. She stared at his receding form, internally fighting with herself whether or not she should heed his instructions. Legolas stopped running suddenly and pivoted to face her with stormy eyes.

"Buffy, go!"

Every fibre of the Slayer's being wanted to remain and it was in her nature to ignore given orders. But something about Legolas made her push down that inherent resistance. Grudgingly, she kicked the horse back into a run towards the Kingdom and the grateful horse happily complied.

In the midst of his brothers' and Buffy's aided escape by Legolas, Aragorn now found himself alone and facing the antagonized leftovers of a warg pack. They opened their mouths wide and threw their heads back as they bellowed their anger. They approached slowly and powerfully, flexing their muscular chests with every complacent step. Aragorn eyed each one in quick succession, keeping both hands on his sword as he threatened to plunge it in the warg that dared to close in too quickly. But they were toying with him now; slowing their movements until they were at a deadly stand-still with the lone human. The course mane on the back of their necks bristled, giving them a larger and wildly dangerous look. Aragorn remained unimpressed.

His muscles twitched in readiness but his hands steadied until his sword was angled upright and perfectly still. He mentally slowed his heart rate until he felt an odd calm wash over him; his breathing hitched as he waited patiently for their strike.

With a howl that scattered the birds in the treetops, a single warg struck, leaping with paws splayed out in front of him and opening his mouth to catch Aragorn's neck in the gaping fangs. Aragorn watched the scene as if in slow motion, but at the last possible moment before he lost his jugular vein, Aragorn ducked while thrusting his sword directly above him. He caught the warg underneath the jaw, skewering the creature's mouth shut and piercing through the skull. But as the creature's body fell limply to the side, Aragorn's sword went with it. He gave a mighty pull but the sword would not wrench free from the body. The remaining wargs sensed the weakness, and as one, they leapt.

Aragorn ducked, holding up his left hand to protect his face while his right went for the Rivendell dagger snuggly tucked in his leather belt. He slashed and jabbed but the encroaching circle of wargs would eventually prove too much for him. Even as he still fought, his energy was seeping from him rapidly. He had no time to think; he moved on instinct but the seconds when he acted too slowly were increasing – shallow cuts gave way to deep gashes. The pain quickly numbed, and while he thanked his deadened senses for the respite in suffering, he knew that the numbness was not a good sign. Either his blood was draining too quickly or he had already lost too much of it. He feared the onset of tell-tale cold. But still, he held his ground. He began to feel claustrophobic; the hot and moldy breath of the wargs singed the hairs on his neck. His crouch was vastly deepening until he could do nothing more than jab upwards blindly; the swarm of wargs above him blocked the dim light of the forest.

As if muffled underwater, Aragorn heard his name being called. He knew it was Legolas and while he was glad for the return of his friend, the urgency in his voice concerned him. The crushing weight of wargs lifted suddenly; they smelt fresh prey. He heard the thuds of their bodies as they hit the ground, nailed by Legolas' steady arrows. The diverted attention of the wargs gave Aragorn a moment to gather his wits and get to his feet.

But oddly he found the world tipping on its axis and stranger still, he now found himself watching Legolas from a horizontal perspective. Legolas called his name again, casting quick worried glances at the Ranger. Aragorn waved slightly and murmured "I'm coming," but found that for some reason his legs were plastered to the forest floor.

This time Legolas called out "Stay down!" But Aragorn found that idea to be absurd. Hardly a time for the blasted Elf to play heroics when they were facing irate wargs. Again, Aragorn made a valiant attempt to at least draw his knees up, and again his traitorous knees ignored him. Grumbling, the Ranger gathered up all the strength he could muster and pushed himself to his elbows. The next hurdle facing him was trying to lift his head up. He suddenly realized how infuriating it must be to be a newborn. His head simply refused to draw itself up. His elbows began to shake. It was only mere seconds before he found himself sprawled out on the ground again. This time his eyes began to close.

"No!" Legolas spun and thrust his dagger into the last remaining warg's stomach. He bolted over to the Ranger's prone body, throwing his weapons down as he searched the man's neck for a pulse. He exhaled slowly. "Thank the Valar," he gasped. He pushed Aragorn onto his back, wiping as much grime, blood and sweat-covered hair as he could away from the human's face. He shook his shoulder, calling his name softly to rouse him. Aragorn's pale face stayed impassive. As Legolas took his hand away, his eyes widened to see the blood that covered it. Alarmed, the Elf glanced around quickly, scanning the forest for the two horses they had planned to use for an escape. But the horses were nowhere to be seen. Either they had made a run for the Kingdom without them, or the wargs had reached them first. The latter thought filled Legolas with a renewed sense of dread; for it was that thought that made much more sense than the first.

Galvanized by the fear for his friend's life, Legolas shouldered his weapons and stooped down to hoist the Ranger up by his waist. He threw a limp arm over his own shoulder, and began the long journey towards home.

Buffy stopped the horse. Naturally, Elladan and Elrohir had disobeyed Aragon's plan and instead had waited until they caught sight of the oddly dressed human girl. Buffy had met their eyes with a stark glance of her own; the situation did not bode well for their companions. Buffy was determined not to take a step further until she at least had Aragorn and Legolas in sight. The two Elven brothers seemed to silently agree with her. Elladan nudged the horse until it was beside hers.

"Can you see anything, Elladan?" Elrohir asked quietly.

Elladan shook his head and let out the frustrated breath he had been holding. 

Elrohir turned his attention to Buffy. "What is your name?"

Buffy turned to him slowly, suddenly noting the differences between these two and the Elves from Mirkwood. "Buffy."

"That is an odd name," Elrohir stated.

Buffy shrugged. "What's your name?"

"Elrohir," he said brightly, then he motioned with his chin to the rider in front of him. "And this is my brother Elladan." 

The left corner of Buffy's mouth hitched up in a smile. "Well, those are some pretty odd names too."

The two brothers shared a befuddled glance and now both stared at Buffy with knitted eyebrows. "Who are you?" Asked Elladan.

Buffy stared at the ground. "Just a girl. From Sunnydale."

Elrohir wrinkled his nose. "Sunnydale? I should dare say I have never heard of the place."

"Oh," Buffy started, "it's kind of far from here."

"The Elves have mapped all of Middle Earth," Elladan reasoned, "and I for one have never heard of the place."

Suddenly Elrohir gasped. "You came through that-" he began to snap his fingers as he searched for the word, "that ripple, that fissure, that-"

"Chasm?" Elladan suggested.

"No, that-"

"We called it a portal." Buffy finished.

Elrohir pointed at her and smiled. "That would be the one."

It sunk in for Elladan who stared at her with a frown. "Then you really aren't from here. You aren't from Middle Earth at all."

Buffy was about to respond when distant sounds coming west of them caught their attention. "What's that?" Buffy whispered.

Elladan twisted in the saddle and squinted off into the distance. "Elves. Looks like Mirkwood's guards."

"Uh oh."

The Rivendell brothers turned to look at Buffy. She was chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"What?" Elrohir asked. "This is a good thing. They've come to fight the wargs!" He straightened when Elladan nudged him sharply in the ribs. Elladan was looking at the horse. Elrohir stared at the horse, dumbfounded. Then his eyes grew wide and he stared back at Buffy. 

"You didn't." He breathed.

Buffy nodded, red-faced.

"Then this isn't a rescue?" Elrohir asked slowly.

Buffy shook her head.

Elladan drew his shoulders back and sat up straighter. "Then we'd best get a move on if Legolas and Aragorn are to be rescued. We won't be much good to them if we've been locked up in the dungeons." With a quick whip of the bridle, the horses were off again, this time thundering back towards the very place they'd been trying to escape from.

For some reason, Legolas felt compelled to head east, away from the Kingdom and all the safety he knew. He could not explain it, but he also felt he could not fight it. Something beckoned him…


	6. Dirty and Beautiful

__

Kay, I just have to say this: Katharra's Award For Most Original Pen-Name goes to "I Get Stalked By Snowmen". Holy crap, seeing that name on the review board had me falling off the chair.

****

Curious Scribblings

The dead weight of Aragorn pulled at Legolas' left shoulder, wrenching the muscles in his arm until the tips of his left fingers became numb. His lower back protested at having to compensate for the uneven weight; small and sporadic spasms raked his lumbar spine. His legs began to tremble slightly with the added exertion. But despite his body's protestations, the haggard twosome was making good ground. Although where Legolas was leading them to, remained to be seen.

He was at odds with himself. He knew the way to safety; it was within the caverns of his father's kingdom. He knew the travelled path to reach it and the smaller paths that Elves frequented. But his current path was alien to him; indeed, it was hardly a path to begin with. He travelled uncertainly, glancing in all directions before continuing on at a haphazard rate. The air smelt treacherous, the trees had a decidedly unfriendly look to him and the ground became more uneven with every step onwards.

Somehow he missed the exposed tree root. Grunting with surprise, the Elf could not prevent the falling motion; Aragorn's limp body did nothing to balance him. Legolas was sprawled face down in the mossy earth with Aragorn laying motionless beside him. Legolas stewed in his misery for a few moments, reprimanding himself silently for being so careless as to forget his most basic sense – sight. 

Aragorn moaned. 

The escaped noise reverberated within the Elf. Pushing himself up onto his knees, Legolas gently rolled the Ranger onto his back. Legolas called his friend's name to rouse him and was rewarded with the fluttering of tired eyelids and finally Aragorn's blue eyes came to rest wearily on Legolas' worried face.

"Aragorn," Legolas prompted.

Aragorn closed his eyes and moaned again, bringing a hand to rest on his forehead. Without removing it, the Ranger began to speak in a very hoarse tone. "What happened?"

Legolas took a quick study of the trees around them before answering. "We were beset upon by wargs. You are wounded."

Aragorn removed the hand and grunted sarcastically. "That much is apparent."

Legolas studied Aragorn with interest. "The cuts are shallow but there are multitudes of them. You lost a lot of blood."

Aragorn nodded blearily. He struggled futilely to sit up, but only for a moment; Legolas reached around him and drew him up, leaning the Ranger against a broad-based tree. Aragorn winced with every movement. The bleeding was slowly stemming but the numerous cuts stretched painfully. Aragorn took a few calming breaths with his eyes closed in meditative concentration. When he reopened them he stared at Legolas with brows knitted in confusion. "Where are the others?"

Legolas dropped his gaze to the ground. "Your brothers and Buffy escaped. They made way for Mirkwood."

Aragorn stole a quick glance about him. "And where does that leave us?"

The Elf looked perplexed. "I do not know."

Aragorn's eyes widened. "Legolas, are we lost?"

Legolas refused to meet Aragorn's gaze. "That…may be a possibility," he answered slowly.

Aragorn brought his hand to his forehead and rubbed it as though he had a headache. He withdrew it and held it in the air questioningly. "How?"

Legolas now looked embarrassed. "Again, I do not know," he saw Aragorn's eyebrows shoot up in alarm and continued quickly. "But I feel somehow compelled."

Aragorn stared at him in complete bafflement. "Compelled?"

Legolas shook his head. "I do not ask you to understand,"

"No, you just ask that I willingly follow," Aragorn finished.

Legolas finally met the man's gaze with his own steady stare. He shrugged. "Under the circumstances you were not in a position to argue."

Aragorn sighed. "I do not pretend to know all the ways of the Elves. But sometimes Legolas, I suspect that you are an adolescent human living in the body of an Elf."

Legolas looked as though he'd been slapped. "Well, there's no need to be-" 

Something moved in the treetops above them. Startled, they both looked up at the leaves that were shaken loose and falling gracefully down to land on their shoulders and hair. Whatever had moved the boughs of the tree was big. Very big.

Legolas and Aragorn stared at each other gravely. "We must move," Legolas stated as he already began to draw the injured Ranger's arm around his shoulder once again. 

Aragorn gritted his teeth against the onslaught of fresh pain. "No arguments here."

"I could've sworn…" Elladan's voice trailed off softly as he studied the ground with a hand clutching his chin, unconsciously tracing the outline of his lips with one finger. His dark eyebrows knitted together while his forehead creased in unsightly concentration. 

"Great," Elrohir threw his arms into the air. "We've lost them. How do we lose a human and Elven archer exactly? That question still remains."

Elladan waved him off impatiently. "We haven't lost them…" his voice trailed off into soft murmuring as he turned his back on the mounted riders. With one hand on his hip and another cupped under his chin, the Elf began to pace the ground, studying it with a scrutinizing eye.

Buffy was looking behind them. The Slayer was chewing on her lip. "Maybe their path was blocked. Maybe they had to take a different path," she suggested. 

Elladan was shaking his head. "No. No, their path wasn't blocked," he said forcefully.

Elrohir and Buffy shared a quick, disbelieving glance. "Then what?" Elrohir asked.

Elladan began mumbling again. Buffy spurred her horse lightly until it strode a few feet into the surrounding bush. Something had caught her eye.

Elrohir sighed and rolled his eyes. "In words we can all understand, brother!" 

"Oh God."

The two Elves' heads snapped up at the sound of the girl's voice. Elrohir squinted at her. "What? What is it?"

Buffy was holding one hand over her mouth. She looked distinctly ill. "I don't think they rode back," she gasped.

Elladan ran over to where she and the horse stood. Her mount was staring wide-eyed at the ground, making soft high-pitched cries. He pushed the thorny bushes and long grasses aside to reveal a mangled corpse of what was once a horse. Flies swarmed around its exposed ribs and entrails and now that he saw the body, the stench of decaying flesh suddenly assaulted him. Elladan wrinkled his nose and turned away, sickened. "Disgusting, foul creatures," he muttered.

Elrohir seemed cemented to his spot. "Dead?"

Elladan grunted. "That goes without saying."

Buffy could not turn away from the macabre spectacle. But it wasn't the body she was seeing before her – it was the thousands of possibilities that could have befallen Legolas and Aragorn that suddenly struck her as she stared at the shredded hide of the Mirkwood horse. "We have to find them," she whispered.

The large-based tree that Aragorn was leaning against provided no room for pivoting – not that he could if he wanted to. The Ranger was stiff and light-headed from the numerous gashes pock-marking his body. He slashed with as much effort as he could muster, but every offensive move left him swaying and panting for air. As far as teamwork was concerned, he had to grudgingly admit that Legolas was the lone fighter in this battle.

The Elf had nearly spent all his arrows shooting down the giant black spiders as they tracked them from the treetops. Finally, when Legolas had sensed that they would soon be cornered (and that Aragorn was beyond running anymore) he deposited the gasping man at the foot of a mighty tree while he turned and slashed with his two knives. He spun and jabbed, never resting a moment to know the extent of his kills but rather trusting his senses that the spiders were slowly being felled. 

Aragorn nearly toppled over as his last attempt at a forceful thrust turned into a weak lunge. He sat on his knees, clutching his chest for air that didn't seem to be filling his lungs. He had never felt more useless in all his life. That, of course, was until something very large and black landed on his body and pinned him face down into the dirt. The Ranger struggled underneath its weight, he kicked his legs and tried to throw elbows into the gaping fangs of the arachnid but his fight seemed to leave him. Or perhaps he was losing consciousness – one of the two.

Legolas ducked without hesitation as two spiders catapulted themselves at his head. The eight-legged creatures flew over top of him, crashing into each other in an act that at any other time would have been humorous. As it were, it only gave Legolas a few moments to catch his breath before he threw himself at the large spider that was currently crushing his friend.

Aragorn bellowed in alarm as he felt warm liquid dribbling onto his cheek. Suddenly the suffocating pressure lifted off his back and he found himself once again gasping for fresh air. With a low moan, he rolled himself onto his back and squinted up into the smiling face of a dirt-smeared Elf. He glanced at the twitching body of the spider that had attacked him; Legolas' knife was still embedded in its quivering back. A graceful hand was offered to him and Aragorn reached up to grasp it.

Legolas saw the Ranger's eyes grow wide with alarm, and it was then that he realised that he had foolishly forgotten about one spider. He still held one knife in his left hand and spinning on his heel he slashed outwards blindly but cleanly cut through the spider's skull. He stared at it for a few moments, scanning his surroundings with the careful attention he should have given it earlier. 

Aragorn was taking in the scene before him with a mixture of awe and concern. The Elf stood with his back to him, but even with his fuzzy vision Aragorn could see a small trickle of bright Elven blood. "Legolas," he said softly.

Legolas snapped his head around to look at the seated man with eyebrows up in question. 

Aragorn motioned with his chin at Legolas' neck. Legolas drew up a hand and surprise flitted across his face when he found small drops of crimson red on his fingertips. He stared at it for a moment then shrugged. "A glancing blow. It will heal soon enough."

But there was a falter in Legolas' wording and Aragorn gave him a wary glance. Legolas swallowed before extending his hand to Aragorn once again.

Gritting his teeth and growling underneath his breath, Aragorn slung his arm around Legolas' shoulders. "What a fine pair we make," he muttered.

Linnethuil was the tallest of Thranduil's son's and leanest. It was often said that he bore an odd resemblance to a skinny birch tree, which made his brothers tease him by calling him an Ent. At the moment, Linnethuil used his graceful tallness to its fullest extent; perched in the highest bough of an old tree he stretched his body upwards. Keeping one hand on its trunk to steady him, he stepped out as far as the lithe limb would allow. He placed one long-fingered palm above his brows to squint into the dying hours of twilight, scanning the forest before him for any sign that would indicate the missing party.

"Do you see anything?"

Linnethuil glanced down at his oldest brother, the heir of Mirkwood, Eliathas. Eliathas was studying the myriad of footprints and paw prints left by a great skirmish. Linnethuil shook his head, then his blonde locks whipped around in the opposite direction. Eliathas took his lead and concentrated his hearing to the same direction. His sharp Elven hearing picked up the sounds of approaching hoarse hooves. Sighing, Eliathas shook his head and signalled his brother to come down from the tree. 

There was only the slightest hint of impact as Linnethuil landed on the soft forest floor in a crouch. He stood behind Eliathas, towering over him. They waited patiently in silence until the bushes parted in front of them with a near cavalry of horses. The horses stopped abruptly as their riders took in the royal brothers with surprise.

"Your highnesses," one of the lead riders dismounted and the two easily recognised him as a higher-ranking guard in the Kingdom. "What are you doing here?"

"I would ask you the same question, Galadar." 

Galadar's jaw went rigid. The two brothers noticed the uncomfortable shift in the other riders' demeanours. "We are tracking an…outlaw."

Eliathas could not stop his eyebrows from shooting up. "An outlaw?"

Linnethuil gave a small chuckle beside him. "It must be a most fearsome outlaw to command my father's royal guard and…" he squinted as he studied the riders in the back of the column. "Stablehands?"

Galadar's eyes flickered to the right briefly. "It is a particularly unique outlaw."

Eliathas stared blankly at the guard. "Apparently."

Galadar sighed as he straightened to meet the Prince at eye level. "It is the girl that we seek, the mortal girl."

The corners of Eliathas' mouth twitched. Linnethuil leaned in to whisper in Eliathas' ear. "Indeed, most fearsome creatures, those mortal girls are."

Red tinged the guard's cheeks. "She stole King Thranduil's horse."

Eliathas and Linnethuil straightened and shared a quick look of disbelief. Linnethuil turned away, muttering incoherently to himself. Eliathas' head cocked to the side. "Thus the need for stablehands, I suppose," he said quietly. Galadar was staring at him intently. Eliathas guessed it was for some sort of royal proclamation concerning the situation. He hated to disappoint, so dutifully he added: "Well, this monstrous girl you seek should indeed be hunted down like the rabid wolf she is. However, it appears as though she may have already met her end at the hands of wargs."

He motioned to the ground beneath him with a sweeping gesture of his hand. Quick gasps sounded throughout the company of riders. Linnethuil stood with his back to a tree, pulling back some blades of long grass. "Would you like to see a carcass?"

No one took him up on his offer.

Eliathas took a step in to Galadar. "Therefore, I am inclined to inform you that as this is now a matter of royal security, any hunt for any mortal girl who was involved in any battle with any warg, shall now be conducted by myself." He smiled at Galadar. "Care to join?"

Galadar's eye twitched. "Under your command?"

Eliathas' smile grew wider and he nodded. "Under my command," he assured.

The proud guard hesitated a moment, but ultimately nodded in acquiescence. 

Eliathas clapped his hands together. "It is settled then. As I am quite sure that stablehands are much more useful in the Kingdom, I think it is only fair to send them home." He noted several disappointed frowns mixed with several grins of relief. "And I don't see the need for quite so many guards,"

"But your highness!" Galadar exclaimed. "His Majesty ordered it-"

"Then His Majesty can re-order it, but only after he hears the message that wargs have attacked, and quite possibly that they have attacked a member of the royal house. I will not delay an action of rescue by having to cater to an entire fleet of bodyguards and stablehands."

Galadar silenced himself again and lowered his eyes to the ground. 

"Now, assemble your best men to accompany us and send the rest home. We leave this instant."


	7. The Space Between

__

Lisette – About the girl thing; being that they're still in Mirkwood, I don't know that the Elves would recognise Buffy as someone of marrying age. As a human, I think they would look down upon her to the point they would consider her a child, (compared to the Elves' longevity, she practically is) who, by her lack of years, would not have as much experience as an Elven maiden might. That, and I myself just can't think of Buffy as a woman. Buffy's age in the series is only a few years older than I am, and I have yet to refer to myself as a woman! (It's much more fun to still be a girl – that's my reasoning and I'm sticking to it!)

Thanks to all reviewers for the encouragement; I know the updates have been slow to get posted, but don't worry – I don't plan on abandoning this story until it's finished. (Who knows when that will be…)

****

Strange Allies with Warring Hearts

He was sure, without a doubt, that by his sheer will and the strength of his body to reach as far as humanly possible, he was sure that he would catch her. That somehow, the fates would see his struggle, that somehow time would slow itself by a fraction of a millisecond. That by grazing the bottom of her boot with his fingertips, somehow her foot would find itself in his hand. 

As rational a thinker as Rupert Giles was, he could not resist exploring every possible "what if" scenario. He knew that this thinking did nothing to solve the problem at hand, it merely passed the time that stretched from one hour to the next. And while he tried valiantly to keep his mind focused on the present and on the task of retrieving his protégé, his thoughts would eventually wander back to the inevitable. If only…

"Giles?"

He gave a start, surprised for a moment to hear voices in his living room. Blinking the thoughts away, he chided himself for wandering so far from the here and now. Of course there were voices in his living room; these past few days they hardly left to give him a moment's peace.

"Would you like some tea?" Tara asked warmly.

But then again, they could be useful in some areas. "Yes, thank you Tara. I'll join you," he said as he began to rise from the couch. 

Tara placed a firm hand on his arm and smiled. "No, you sit. I can get it."

__

Yes, they could positively be invaluable at times. Grateful for the continued rest, Giles sank back down into the tan leather sofa, resting his chin on his hand. Willow and Xander were arguing across from him – for once Xander had left the sarcasm and dry wit at home. Instead, frustrated venting had taken its place. Dawn looked up at them warily; the teenager had barely spoken since that fateful night. She immersed herself in the books, devouring the large volumes with a vigour matched only by himself. But unlike him, she hardly slept or took any time for rest. Anya kept a concerned eye on her, almost motherly. It was shocking to see the curt woman place a comforting hand on Dawn's shoulder, but she did – and quite often to boot. Dawn always forced a smile in thanks, but the wide-eyed look of foreboding never left her face. 

Spike paced. The tension rippled through him like a caged mountain lion, until Giles had been forced to shout at the vampire to get him to stop. Spike had glared at him, fighting the urge to say something exceedingly rude. But instead he shook his head and exhaled loudly, running his fingers through his platinum hair before skulking in an armchair for a few hours. But eventually he got bored of that and now he was pacing again.

Giles could no longer find the words that would set them all at ease. He could not find it within himself to make promises that even he didn't believe. He no longer had the answers – he didn't even know where to start. He rubbed his tired, aching eyes with a sigh.

He had not slept soundly the night before. On the verge of sleep, an idea would form in his mind, commanding his attention until he ruled out yet another potential solution. Then he would start the process of clearing his mind and relaxing his body all over again, often with the same results. But one final thought before he finally drifted off into sleep had troubled him so much that he pushed it to the very small recesses in the back of his mind, denying himself the right to ponder it further.

What if she didn't want to come back?

***

They had come to the point where Legolas was leaning on Aragorn just as much as Aragorn was leaning on Legolas. The weary twosome resembled a comical impression of staggering drunks more than they did warriors. They walked in a zig-zagging fashion; stumbling to put one foot in front of the other. And to pass the time, (or simply to annoy each other) they argued incessantly.

"You said it yourself; that you were 'somehow compelled'," Aragorn dramatically waved his hand out in front of him to emphasise the point. "And if you were compelled, then you were not truly acting on your own sense of reason, and therefore you were not choosing that path of your own volition. Therefore, I cannot hold you accountable for your actions; obviously you had no free will in this decision."

"Of course I had free will!" Legolas exclaimed. "I am always in control of my own actions."

"Aha!" Shouted Aragorn. "Then you admit it!"

Legolas was truly baffled now. His mind was beginning to ache with the difficult line of thinking. "Admit what?"

"That you did act on your own accord. You did willingly and knowingly drag me on another senseless mission yet again."

"Senseless?!" Legolas spat out. He shook his head and blinked the dizziness out of his eyes. Breathing was swiftly becoming a tiresome chore. He panted on for a few moments before finding his air again. "I beg to differ, _human_. How has it been senseless?"

Aragorn stopped abruptly, throwing Legolas off balance. The Elf teetered for a split-second before finding his centre again. The Ranger was panting as well, but under his layers of caked dirt and clotted blood he glared at Legolas. "We are lost and both a shade closer to death. Had you simply returned to the Kingdom like any rational Elf would have, we would not be suffering this misery."

Legolas gathered his hair at the base of his neck and threw it off his shoulders. A light drizzle had coated the forest, dampening his hair and skin until the tresses stuck to the back of his neck and itched him terribly. He _was _miserable, that much he would admit. The spider venom was settling itself throughout his veins and body. His legs became lead; the simple art of walking became an arduous task of letting one foot fall heavily in front of the other. It would not be long before his already fuzzy vision completely gave out on him. Then he would be both paralysed and unconscious for an extended period of time. Their ultimate goal was to be as far from the spider nests as possible before that occurred. But at their current rate, that hope was dying. "And what do you mean 'yet again'?" He added.

Aragorn sighed, wiping the moisture off his face. Then he turned and laughed at Legolas. "If I recall correctly, and I do, we came to be in Sunnydale purely because of your own foolishness."

Legolas' mouth dropped. 

Aragorn laughed harder at the sight of a speechless Elf. "You persuaded me on that hunt, implying that we were merely tracking spiders and not Orcs. I should have known better than to trust a Mirkwood Elf."

Legolas grunted and threw Aragorn's arm around his shoulder, initiating the painful trudge once again. "Now you sound like a Dwarf."

"At least the Dwarves have the good sense not go against their instincts."

Thus the argument started over, much where it had left off. They argued back and forth until their reasons became short bursts of logic, followed by drawn-out silences. Soon they had neither the strength nor desire to continue their bantering. Walking became a battle of their wills versus their waning strength. 

"Legolas," Aragorn panted. "We should stop…build a fire…find shelter of sorts."

Legolas gave a small shake of his head; any more effort and he would make himself nauseous. "No," he insisted. "We must go further."

Aragorn stumbled along, processing this thought at an alarmingly slow rate and gathering his breath to retort. "Why?" Was all he could manage.

Legolas gasped for an answer. "You'll see."

With no heart to contradict the Elven Prince, Aragorn simply let Legolas lead them farther into the wild.

Legolas was the first to trip and fall, taking Aragorn with him. Aragorn pushed himself to his side, wheezing for air and squeezing his eyes shut as he attempted to clear the fog from his brain. His wavering eyesight sought out Legolas' prone form, and with a trembling hand Aragorn shook his shoulder. Legolas grunted into the dirt.

Aragorn thought it immensely odd and most disconcerting when his muddled mind realised belatedly that there was a pair of feet in front of his head. He lifted his head slowly, taking in the frayed and faded grey robe, up to the brown leather belt, to the wrinkled and callused hand that sat firmly on his hip, to the other hand that held a warped tree branch for a walking stick and finally onto the white beard streaked with grey, the patient eyes beneath frazzled eyebrows, the wizard's hat perched atop a wizard's head. "Gandalf," Aragorn breathed, relief tingeing his voice.

"See?" Legolas muttered into the dirt.

***

The horses sensed it before the riders did. The grey-speckled mare that Buffy was straddling stopped suddenly, rearing and snorting while Buffy clung to her neck precariously. She was not enjoying her first riding lessons. Elrohir and Elladan's horse did much the same, although the two more experienced riders calmly weathered the horse's fit. Elladan leaped off the horse and studied the ground. Buffy copied him, thankful for the chance to work out some of the cramps in her legs from the bouncy ride. Elladan dabbed his finger in what looked like a small, muddy puddle.

"Blood?" Buffy asked.

Elladan nodded, his forehead creasing. And then to Buffy's amazement and disgust, he tasted it. He quickly spat it out and wrinkled his nose. "Spiders."

Buffy shook her head and straightened. "Great."

"Why would they come here?" Elrohir asked. It was the obvious question, and Buffy, Elladan and Elrohir all looked to each other to answer it. Moments of frustrated silence filed between them as none could come up with a veritable reason.

Elladan and Buffy both tracked the ground, taking mental notes of footprints and blood, broken blades of grass and snapped tree roots. Elrohir nudged his horse forward, past the other two.

"Here," he motioned with one hand. "Got a dead one here."

Buffy ran forward, shuddering at the sight of a large spider with an arrow driven into its underside. The thing was on its back with all eight legs curled inwards, an enlarged version of dead spiders from her world. "Ugly," she stated simply.

Elrohir had already moved on. "More over here, and I can see one over there. I think half of it's missing though."

Elladan was shaking his head with hands perched on his hips. "Obviously they survived."

"Survived?" Buffy turned to him with a quizzical frown. "How can you be so sure? What if they're hanging upside down in some cocoon right now?"

Elladan shook his head. "No. I think they got them all."

"Brother," Elrohir said quietly. 

Elladan looked past Buffy to where Elrohir was examining the bark of a tree. His eyes were troubled. Buffy followed Elladan over to the tree, carefully stepping over the body of a spider missing a few of its legs. A small trickle of something bright played against the damp darkness of the tree. It was crimson, unlike the oily black of the spiders' blood.

"Human blood," Elrohir breathed.

Elladan flashed Buffy a quick glance. "Or Elven."

Buffy digested the news with a slow nod. She stared at the ground and turned away from the line of blood that painted the tree. "They can't be far." She didn't wait for them to retort, but they wouldn't have regardless. "They could both be wounded. They have to be tired." She walked back to where her horse was nervously eyeing its surroundings. Mustering her strength and poise, she hoisted herself up onto the back without a second try. "We don't rest until we find them."

Elladan and Elrohir shared a quick glance. Humour danced in their eyes. It was bad enough to take orders from their younger human brother – now it looked as though they would have to take it from a human girl as well. 

Elladan mounted behind Elrohir, for once following the girl who seemed resolutely determined to take over the hunt for the two missing. They had not moved more than 10 paces when a booming voice commanded their attention.

"Halt!"

Buffy spun around in her saddle, squinting at the approaching figures on horseback. Elladan and Elrohir began to mumble something in a language unknown to Buffy, and the manner in which they spoke made Buffy think of the way small children mutter under their breath when they see the principal stalking towards them. She quickly glanced at them for instruction but their shoulders sagged with resignation. She narrowed her eyes at the company of blonde Elves that now surrounded the three. A particularly large Elf with shoulder length blonde hair reined his horse in until Buffy was blocked from escaping. 

"You are to be apprehended and held until for further notice for the crimes of trespassing in the Royal Wood without due permission of His Majesty, the King of Mirkwood; of stealing the personal property of His Majesty, the King of Mirkwood, Thranduil the-"

"I prefer the term 'borrowed'."

Galadar did not take kindly to being interrupted during royal proclamations, especially from those he was sentencing. He eyed the girl warily, hand straying to the hilt of his sword. 

"How would you prefer the term 'dungeon'?"

The girl glared at him defiantly. "Bite me."

The Elves' heads snapped up and they all glanced at each other suspiciously. Even Elrohir and Elladan shared a brief and very confused glance.

Galadar's mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. "I…beg your pardon?"

Buffy shrugged. "You heard me."

"We all heard you, lady," a regal voice cut through the air. Buffy sought out the one who spoke, finding herself confronted by a larger version of Legolas but with strikingly green eyes. "But perhaps we missed something in the meaning."

He didn't glower at her the way the first one did. He wore a slight smile and his eyes bore deeply into hers. She couldn't tell if he was being condescending in an attempt to intimidate her or if she genuinely amused him. Either way, she herself wasn't amused. 

Her horse paced cautiously in front of the tracking party. "Take it any way you like," she offered quietly. "Just don't stand in my way."

The regal one's eyebrows shot up. "Dangerous little thing, aren't we?"

Now Buffy was getting pissed off. "Look, on any other day I'd love to sit down and trade some nasty threats with you. But you caught me on one of my really, _really_, bad days. So back off, or you'll find out how dangerous I can be."

The Elves looked incredulously to one another. The lead Elf burst out laughing, holding his stomach as his companions stared at him in baffled silence. He dismounted, still chuckling softly as he sauntered over to Buffy's horse. He held her mare's rein, pulling the horse in until he was a few daring inches from her leg. "And just where is it," he asked in a low voice that hinted at sounding threatening, "that you are in such a hurry to be?"

"Come off of it Eliathas."

Eliathas rounded on the two Rivendell brothers, particularly Elrohir. "Something you would like to add, Master Elrohir?"

"We search for Aragorn, our brother, son of Elrond," Elladan announced loudly. He fixated his attention on Eliathas. "And we also search for Legolas, your brother, the Prince of Mirkwood."

Eliathas glanced sharply in Buffy's direction. "I see."

"Obviously you do not," Elrohir stated. "Look around you, son of Thranduil. Can you not see the marks of battle against Mirkwood spiders? The two we hunt for are wounded. Unless you wish to bring your brother's body home wrapped in a sheet, I suggest you let us on our way."

His words hit a mark with Eliathas. His emerald eyes scorched a path through Elrohir, but the proud Rivendell Elf held his ground. 

"You could, of course, join us," Elrohir began, a small smile playing at the edges of his mouth. "If you so choose."

"You forget yourself, Master Elrohir." Eliathas' voice took on a dangerous growl. "This is Mirkwood, not Rivendell. You are in my father's Kingdom, not your own. And while you travel in His Majesty's wood, you will be under his command."

Buffy sighed loudly. "Yeah, well, His Majesty isn't around at the moment-"

"Which is why you now find yourself in MY command." Eliathas announced. He walked back over to Buffy and cocked his head. "My first concern is for that of my brother's life. I will hear not a word from you, not even a whisper. Once Prince Legolas is back in the safety of the Kingdom, we will then deal with you and your crimes." He stalked off back to his horse and mounted with an impetuous air, signalling the company to follow him off into the wood. He left Buffy, Elrohir and Elladan to cover the rear, effectively dismissing them.

Buffy resisted the overwhelming urge to flip him off.

***

Aragorn shivered and pulled his cloak tighter to his body. The action did not go unnoticed.

"Sit closer to the fire," he was commanded by Gandalf.

The Ranger shuffled himself closer to the small but adequate fire then turned to watch Gandalf tend to his unconscious friend, Legolas. The Elf had not moved since Gandalf had deposited him on a tattered old blanket beside the kindling fire. The grizzled wizard rubbed a clear salve on the back of Legolas' neck, taking a quick moment to wave a hand in front of the Elf''s blank stare. He did not blink. Sighing, Gandalf tucked Legolas' cloak snugly around his neck. He pushed his body up from his knees, turning to eye Aragorn severely.

Aragorn's attention was held rapt by the prone body of his friend. "Will he be alright?"

Gandalf harrumphed. "Oh yes. Most Elves of the Mirkwood region are used to spider venom. He will recover." He raised an eyebrow at the sight of the exhausted Ranger in front of him. "You, on the other hand…"

Aragorn tried to shrug, wincing when the small movement caused his shoulders to cry out. "I will be fine."

"I have no doubt that you will survive. And you shall have the scars to prove it. But what I cannot comprehend, is the stupidity that got you into this mess in the first place."

"Stupidity?" Aragorn nearly choked on the word. He nodded with his chin in Legolas' direction. "You need look no further for an explanation than the Prince you just attended to. It was all his undoing."

"Indeed, blame the one that cannot defend himself." 

Aragorn opened his mouth to protest but Gandalf waved him off. "It is most unlike you to not to think for yourself."

"I was wounded!" Aragorn protested.

Gandalf nodded. "And yet you still draw breath. For that I fear, you will have to thank the stupid one who cannot defend himself."

Aragorn's mouth closed and his eyes lowered to study the comforting fire in front of them. He heard a small pop followed by a long sucking noise; Gandalf had just lit his pipe. The wizard sat next to the brooding human with his long pipe, inhaling thoughtfully as he nudged Aragorn with his shoulder. "I am relieved to have found you when I did."

Aragorn turned to him questioningly. "Why?"

A sharp yowl in the distance made Aragorn jump slightly. 

Gandalf took his pipe out of his mouth and pointed it in the direction of the animal-like noise. "That is why. Every night they come closer. It won't be long now."

Aragorn swallowed reflexively. Orcs.

***

Something made Buffy turn slightly off the path that Eliathas led them on, that the others followed obediently. She stretched out with all her instincts, searching with her eyes and when they failed her, she closed them tightly and concentrated her hearing until she blocked out all other noises, even that of her own breathing. Then she heard it – a quick snap. Her eyes shot open.

"What is it?"

Buffy gave a surprised start. She turned to the soft voice that appeared suddenly at her side, expecting to see one of the dark-haired Elves, but instead she found herself staring at a willowy blonde Elf, taller and leaner than any she had seen so far. 

"I heard something," she said quietly. 

His forehead creased as he looked at her, as if judging her ability to hear. "Where? Which direction?"

She pointed directly in front of her. He straightened on his horse until he sat a full foot above her, then he squinted into the never-ending darkness. "By the Valar," he whispered.

"Linnethuil! Why have you stopped?"

Linnethuil shifted in his saddle towards Eliathas, motioning him with a hand. Eliathas galloped over, sparing a quick glare in Buffy's direction. The Slayer gritted her teeth against the urge to kick him.

Linnethuil pointed into the distance. "There, do you see it?" He whispered. "A campfire. We've found them."

__


	8. Songbird

****

Songbird

Aragorn had a wilting stare when he applied himself to it. "I thought you were going back to the Kingdom."

Unfortunately the blonde in front of him wasn't known for squirming under pressure. "Plans changed," she shrugged nonchalantly.

"It was for your own protection," he said, his voice rising. "You did not listen."

Buffy's eyebrows shot up. "And that surprises you?"

Aragorn gave a resigned sigh. "Sadly, no." He turned to the two brown-haired Elves sitting on horseback, grinning ridiculously at him as he eyed them sharply. "I would have thought you two to be smarter."

Elladan laughed. "Do not speak to me of smarts, brother." He motioned to Aragorn's battle-torn tunic. "It is not I who ended up lost in the middle of Mirkwood, bleeding like a stuck pig."

Aragorn grumbled under his breath, but knew that a wordy argument with his brother would only be a fruitless effort. He pivoted and stalked back to the fireside, ignoring the entire company of Mirkwood Elves that were mulling about.

Buffy placed a strong hand on his shoulder, stopping him dead in his tracks and spinning him to face her. "Legolas?"

Aragorn pointed over his shoulder. "There."

Even though she was keenly aware of Elvish sleeping habits, she still couldn't help but give a small gasp when she saw Legolas laying prone with wide, unblinking eyes. Aragorn was still standing in front of her.

"He is alive."

Buffy looked at him. "I know. I knew that." She wrung her hands in a fidgety motion. "It's just kind of creepy." 

Buffy stayed a moment, swallowing her anxiety and preparing herself to face the worst. But her preparation was not needed; he lay on his stomach and for all that she could see, he was physically intact. She finally moved to step around Aragorn but stopped again when she saw Linnethuil and Eliathas approach Legolas. Linnethuil knelt on one knee, checking the Prince's pulse and inspecting the cut on the back of his neck. Legolas did not stir. Eliathas stood over the two, a deep frown creasing his face. 

Aragorn placed a hand on Buffy's shoulder. "You can go to him; they will not harm you," he said quietly.

Buffy shook her head. "Maybe I'll wait."

"Foolhardy Elf!"

Buffy and Aragorn whirled to the sound of a booming voice yelling across the campfire. Buffy saw an old man with an inhumanly long beard tugging on the stubborn arm of Elrohir. 

"I am in no need of treatment!" He protested. 

Elladan shook his head with a smirk as he walked away from the two.

"What will Lord Elrond say when I inform him of the immaturity of his sons? And be rest assured, I will inform him."

Elrohir had set his face in a resilient glare.

"Elrohir!" Aragorn growled. "Submit to Gandalf's treatments." He turned back around and rubbed his hands together, placing them over his mouth as though to warm them. "And save us all from his pestering," he added under the cover of his hands.

He missed the severe eye thrown in his direction care of the wizard. 

"That's Gandalf?" Buffy asked quietly.

Aragorn glanced at the wizard manhandling the Elf to the ground. "Aye," he nodded. "He is our wisest ally and loyal friend." He winced at the sound of Elrohir yelping. "Although his healing techniques are somewhat unorthodox," he added quickly.

Buffy nodded. "Gotcha. Don't get hurt whenever he's near." 

***

"Never?" Buffy asked incredulously.

Aragorn shrugged. "Not that I have ever been witness to."

Buffy shook her head in disbelief. "Then what's the point of Elves even having eyelids?" To which Aragorn chuckled.

"I thought that when I was young I was already wise in the ways of the Elves. But when my mother placed me in the care of Lord Elrond in the Elven home of Rivendell, it soon became apparent that I did not know nearly as much about Elves as I had previously thought." Aragorn nodded his head in the two dark-haired Elves' directions. "Take my first hunting trip with those two. During the night, Elrohir kept watch while Elladan and I took our rest. I was beyond exhausted that night; we had been travelling the entire day by foot and I was still a young lad. Sometime during the night I had awoken from my dreams, but upon opening my eyes I found myself staring into Elladan's wide open eyes." Aragorn laughed lightly as he remembered the excursion.

Buffy smiled with him. "What happened?"

"I screamed like a little girl. I thought he was dead!" At this, both he and Buffy started to laugh. "Well – Elladan awoke believing we were under attack. He – he-" Aragorn gasped for air as he remembered his brothers' panic at his terrified screams. "He couldn't get his sword out fast enough! He was tangled up in his blankets and his battle against some mythic demon became a battle to free himself from the blankets' deadly grasp."

Buffy laughed as she pictured a proud Elf being defeated by his own bedding. 

Aragorn's laughs subsided as he regained some control. "I thought Elrohir would die from hyperventilation; I've never seen him laugh that hard since. Elladan was furious. For the rest of the trip he would never rest with either Elrohir or myself. He kept watch alone and often ignored us the rest of the time." Aragorn shook his head and chewed absently on a fingernail, his eyes still twinkling with the memory of the fateful trip. "Of course, Elrohir thought it all to be hilarious. He never ceased to try to scare me in the mornings by placing his face next to mine every time I awoke."

"Oh no," Buffy groaned as she pictured it.

Aragorn shrugged. "An accidental yet timely slip of drool fixed that nuisance."

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Eeeew." A second later a loud rumbling emitted from her stomach. She rubbed it absently as an embarrassed flush painted her cheeks. "Sorry."

Aragorn looked momentarily stunned. "I am the one who is terribly sorry. You need nourishment."

Buffy waved him away. "Bah. Nourishment is so overrated."

"Nonsense." He reached into his pack and pulled out a bundle of lembas wrapped in leather. "Here. This will help ease your hunger." He handed her a round pad which she took graciously, immediately tearing off large strips and chewing quickly.

"Aragorn," Gandalf said quietly. "A word?"

Aragorn turned to excuse himself to Buffy, but she was already waving him off. Her mouth was too stuffed with lembas that she couldn't excuse him verbally even had she wanted to.

***

His fingers twitched. A tingling sensation began in his fingertips and travelled up his arm and into his spine, burning a path to energise his lethargic muscles. His sense of feeling was returning with rapid succession, but his eyes refused to focus. That was the first thing he noticed as he returned to consciousness. After fighting with his insubordinate eyesight for a few moments, he rested his struggles as he recognised that danger had passed. 

There was a pop of a small explosion from a campfire. He could feel its heat on his forehead. There were impatient stomps and snorts from several horses jostling each other behind him, tethered to trees. He heard murmurs of low discussion from several groups around the fire. One by one, he focused his attention and studied their voices; he clearly picked out two of his brothers, the brothers of Elrond, Aragorn and Gandalf. From directly in front of him he heard a soft humming.

All other sounds became muffled as he attuned his hearing to the wordless song. The melody was pleasant, even soothing. She hummed with detachment but the song seemed to emanate from her; if only he knew what the words were. Elven songs were often history lessons and morals rolled into one, he wondered if Buffy's songs were the same. Now determined to ask her the nature of her song, he struggled with every fibre of his being to leave his dreams behind and return to the living.

His forehead creased and sweated with the effort but finally the dreamy blackness of a dreamworld opened to a hazy scenery in front of him. He blinked the fogginess away, willing his eyes to focus properly. The blackness of night was cut by the warm orange heat of a small fire that played shadows off the faces of all the Elves and humans sitting around it. The trees and bodies before him loomed above him with impressive grandeur and it took a brief moment of considerable confusion to pass until he realised it was because he was laying on the ground. 

His waking had yet to be noted, which satisfied him; he did not wish to face the barrage of questions that was no doubt headed his way, care of Eliathas. Instead he lay listlessly and continued to listen to the humming from Buffy.

Either she grew tired of the song or the song ended, but she stopped humming and concentrated on the piece of bark she was mauling with a sharp hunting knife. She had not joined in with any conversations. 

"What was the song called?"

He thought he asked it quietly, but Buffy jumped nonetheless. Several discussions stopped abruptly. She turned quickly and stared at him with wide eyes. "What?"

He smiled apologetically. "The song. What was it called?"

She knitted her eyebrows together, still shocked at seeing Legolas awake and perfectly normal. She suddenly remembered that she had been humming. "Oh that." She cocked her head slightly as she thought, chewing on her bottom lip. "I can't remember," she admitted. 

Elven eyes turned and silently studied the two conversing.

Legolas watched her patiently. "Where did you hear it?"

She turned to him and a distant look crossed her face. "My mom used to sing it. I don't think she knew all the words, but she used to hum it sometimes." A sad smile settled on her lips. "While she was making tea." She went back to hacking at the bark with her knife.

His eyebrows raised as chips went flying into the air. "Are you constructing something?"

She shook her head and stopped, throwing a smile in his direction. "No. Just working out some issues."

He nodded. "I see." He didn't really, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"So you are awake," Gandalf announced as he stood and walked over to where Legolas lay. He bent over and extended a hand to the Elven Prince.

"It would seem so," Legolas remarked as he accepted the hand and stood. He wavered for a second before he found his balance and erected himself.

"Brother."

Legolas winced and turned to face his smiling brother, the heir to Mirkwood, Eliathas. 

"You gave us quite a jaunt through the forest," Eliathas said, still smiling at Legolas.

"My instructions were to find Gandalf," he retorted. He motioned with his hand to the wizard. "I am successful."

"Success," Eliathas repeated. He took a quick look at the number of Elves that sat around the campfire. "If this is what you would indeed call success."

Legolas opened his mouth to argue but closed it wordlessly. He shook his head and began to turn away.

"Legolas,"

He turned back around with an exasperated stare at Linnethuil. "Yes?" He prompted.

Linnethuil paused with a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "We are glad to see you well."

Legolas studied his brother for a moment before nodding slowly. He turned away and sat down on the log beside Buffy. Eliathas took his seat across the fire, speaking in low Sindarin to another Elf but keeping a watchful stare focused on the two.

"Were those your instructions indeed?"

Legolas nodded in response to Gandalf's question. He bowed his head to speak quietly to the wizard. "The palantir, do you have it?"

Gandalf gave a coughing stutter. "Of course I have it," he finally answered. He looked over Legolas' shoulder to where Buffy sat, attentively watching the two. "In order to get the young lady home, I suspect?"

Legolas and Buffy both nodded.

Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow as he took in all the other seated Elves. "And what of them? What were their instructions, exactly?"

Legolas set his jaw rigidly. "They came to find me."

Both of Gandalf's eyebrows raised.

Legolas' eyes shifted to the ground momentarily. "They came to find her," he motioned with a nod towards Buffy who gave Gandalf a shrug. "She came to find me."

Gandalf hummed thoughtfully, although to Buffy it sounded like an exasperated growl. "And now we are all together," he surmised.

"Perhaps it is for the best."

The threesome looked up to see Aragorn studying the woods with a wary eye. "We are not alone tonight."

They all turned serious looks towards the encroaching darkness, taking shallow breaths to concentrate their hearing on the forest. Gandalf murmured under his breath. "It is the Orcs. They are showing some bravery to be this close."

The talking around the campfire abruptly came to a halt at the mention of the foul creatures. Eliathas narrowed his eyes in Gandalf's direction. Gandalf was perfectly aware of Eliathas' scrutiny, but chose to ignore it. "They will attempt an attack, but only if they suspect we are weakened or unaware of their presence. We must be on guard at all times."

Several heads nodded in agreement followed by volunteers voicing their choice to keep watch during the night. Legolas turned to Buffy who already had her mouth open to issue her choice of watch. Legolas silenced her with an upturned hand. "Perhaps it is best if you do not keep guard with the others."

Buffy's mouth hung open in stunned silence as though she had been slapped. She closed it finally and turned away from him with arms crossed in front of her, intending to let the matter drop. But her liberated side won out a few moments later and she spun around with stormy eyes glaring a path through Legolas' head. "WHAT IS WITH YOU PEOPLE?!"

She hadn't intended it to be so loud, but all eyes turned to her. Undaunted, she continued. "Issues much? Too macho to let a little itty bitty girl help you out once in awhile?"

Legolas' eyes were wide and unblinking as he watched Buffy rise to her feet and pace in front of him, throwing her hands in the air as she vented. "I am NOT a damsel in distress! Does it LOOK like I have any damsel-ness in me? Do I LOOK like I'm in need of any help?"

A few Elves opened their mouths but Buffy silenced them with a lethal glare. "Don't even think about answering that. It was rhetorical."

Legolas stood in front of Buffy to stop her pacing. "Buffy, I had no-" But he was cut off when Buffy pointed a finger inches in front of his nose.

"And you! You _know _who I am. You've seen what I do. I'm a slayer." She emphasised her name by sounding it out very carefully. "SLAY-YER. I've been slaying vampires since before I started dating. And yes, it WAS that long ago."

She crossed her arms over her chest as she breathed quickly, fury painting her face a dark red. Aragorn now stood and held his hands out in front of him as though approaching a wild animal. "Buffy, I admit that it is somewhat different here, but-"

"SOMEWHAT?!? You people are living in the dark ages! Ever heard of equal opportunity in the workplace?!?" 

She would have gladly continued on her current rant had it not been for an impromptu arrow shot from within the darkness of the forest and heading for a spot between her eyes. Before Legolas could leap to strike it down, Buffy caught it mere inches in front of her. Surprised, she forgot her anger and cocked her head at the grotesque brown arrow. "Hey, I've seen this before-"

The Elves were now on their feet, firing their arsenal blindly into the forest as thick shafts of Orcish arrows rained down upon them. 

Aragorn unsheathed his sword as Legolas drew his bow and arrow. The Black Speech yelled commands from all directions around them, and the howls of excited Orcs filled with bloodlust came ever closer. "It's an ambush," Aragorn breathed.


	9. Ready to go

I'LL BE WAITING

Buffy stared at the arrow trapped firmly between her palms in wonderment. Her paralysis only lasted for a moment as her senses screamed at her to twist to the left. She spun and felt the air kiss her neck as a large sword was thrust in her direction, narrowly missing its mark intended for her shoulder blade. The move sent her spiralling into Legolas whose arrow went wayward from the sudden collision, lodging itself into the base of a tree instead of an Orc. He looked quickly to the source of his stumble and his eyes widened for a fraction of a second. He grabbed Buffy by the shoulder and pushed her roughly away, bringing his bow down on the neck of the attacking Orc. The Orc grunted, collapsing on the ground in an unconscious heap. For good measure, Legolas shot an arrow into it. He felt a sudden pressure on his back and instantly reached his hand to his quiver.

"Let go!" Buffy yelled.

Legolas turned, bringing Buffy with him. Surprise flitted across his face as he glanced at the petite wrist held captive in his hand. She was in the process of stealing one of his knives. 

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Mind if I borrow this? Or should I just wink at them like a proper young lady?"

Legolas let go and was about to apologise when she thrust the knife past his left earlobe. He turned his head slightly to glimpse the Orc that had been rushing to take his head off, now impaled face first on the end of the pilfered knife. She drew the knife back and the Orc fell with a dull thud. She smiled at the blood dripping off the point of the elegant weapon. 

"You know, it is somewhat more satisfying than ashes."

Legolas shook his head as he fired off three more arrows in quick succession. "I hardly think now is the time to be introspective."

Buffy slashed downward at a howling Orc and grimaced as it writhed on the ground in its death throes. "Mmm, I beg to differ." She spun quickly and jabbed the knife through an Orc's back. "Everyone else gets to be introspective while they're working, I don't see why I can't too. Technically this is my job, you know." Her ears perked up at the sound of clumsy footsteps heading her way. She dropped to the ground and swung out a leg, tripping the advancing Orc. Before it could push itself up on its elbows she had skewered it. "Although this, I suppose, would be more like moonlighting. Orcs and funky looking wolf thingees are not really in my job description."

Legolas threw a high kick into an Orc's face before jabbing it in the eye with an arrow. "You really do enjoy this, don't you?"

Buffy frowned at his turned back. "Oh come on. Like you don't get some perverse enjoyment from this macho crap." 

He turned to give her a ludicrous glance but found himself ducking as she whipped the knife blade over handle into another Orc that was creeping up on him. He stared at the dead Orc in amazement. Buffy sauntered up to him and threw him a smile before reaching down to rip the knife out of its head. 

Legolas, for the first time in all his life of killing Orcs, was feeling queasy. He never realised how disturbing it was until he saw her doing it. It somehow seemed entirely inappropriate now. 

Buffy was still smiling as she shrugged. "Sure beats bingo on a Friday night."

***

Eliathas' sword twirled in long elegant strokes, swiping downwards on the chest of an Orc, then upwards and angled to his back to catch the Orc's jugular that was sneaking up on him. His face was set and determined, with a calm focus that younger Elves marvelled at. Every move was executed with maximum efficiency but never forgetting its graceful lines. His precision however, was not merely a gift from the Valar; Eliathas simply refused failure on his part. Where other Elves reached a level of training that satisfied them, Eliathas could not content himself until he had achieved perfection. As perfect as his current fighting form was, Eliathas was still not happy.

The source of his unhappiness lay not within himself, but because Galadar had failed to cover his own flank. His Elvish senses were too late to avoid the brutal hack on his collar. Flesh split, bone snapped and Galadar went crashing to the ground with an agonised cry. Eliathas made quick jabs that he considered the height of sloppiness, but for Galadar to have a fighting chance at survival Eliathas would not have time for poise anymore. He raced to his wounded guard's side, grimacing at the sight of blood seeping steadily from the gash and staining Galadar's green tunic a rusty brown. 

Eliathas knew instantly that the wound was beyond his healing. He searched quickly for Gandalf but could not see past the throngs of fighting Elves and Orcs. Galadar moaned on the ground. Eliathas was hestitant to drop his sword in order to support the Elf; instead he kneeled behind him and placed a comforting hand on his chest.

"Courage, Galadar. Help will arrive," he urged quietly.

Galadar chewed on his bottom lip to stifle further moans and shook his head. "You cannot stay here Master Eliathas. It is not safe for you," he said through gritted teeth.

Eliathas ignored him and continued to search for help. He made eye contact with his brother and waved at him.

Linnethuil came to a skidding halt beside the two. He probed Galadar's wound frantically with his gaze, too nervous to touch the gaping slice with his long fingers. Eliathas met his worried gaze for a moment, countering it with his own hardened stare. Linnethuil began to whisper Sindarin words of comfort to his fallen comrade. 

"Is he okay?"

The young woman's voice startled Eliathas. He frowned up at her; there were few who could sneak up on him like that and it left him feeling quite disconcerted. "He will survive," he said grimly.

Buffy nodded, studying Galadar seriously. The wound did not look good, but as Legolas had taught her, Elves were extraordinary at healing themselves. She stood motionlessly watching them as she did not know what to do to help. She was not adept at healing; she generally shied away from that whole taking-care-of-people thing. She was about to start fidgeting from lack of activity and not knowing what to do when the sight of Linnethuil's widening eyes made her instincts jump. She threw the knife into her left hand and pivoted in the same direction, slashing blindly as she spun. She heard a telltale howl as her slash left its mark deep into the hide of an Orc. 

She stared at it as it twitched on the ground, chiding herself for not keeping her own watch. Her face began to burn with embarrassment; now she would have to meet their smirking faces and they would probably admonish her for being a woman and not knowing her place in the world.

But as she turned she was surprised to see all three gaping at her, even Galadar seemed to have forgotten his pain momentarily. Eliathas' forehead was creased and his frown was deep, Linnethuil's mouth was hanging, and Galadar's eyebrows had shot up in alarm. Buffy glanced at all three in succession, but couldn't understand their reactions.

"What?" She asked impatiently.

The three continued their silent stare. Eliathas' eyes flitted down to her chest and then quickly back to her face. Galadar shook his head and relaxed against Linnethuil's hold. It was Linnethuil who finally spoke quietly. "Can you not feel that?"

Buffy frowned at him in question. He nodded downwards. It was then that Buffy began to feel a burning sensation in her chest. She looked down slowly, dreading what she was about to see. She muttered a swear as blood began to stain the front of her white long-sleeved shirt. She pulled at the edges of the slashed shirt gingerly, peering cautiously at the cut to see how deep it ran. She did not feel faint, and other than the pain it did not seem to be quite so bad. Anger began to boil within her. She kicked the dead Orc at her feet.

The three Elves jumped. She met their gazes apologetically. "I really liked this shirt."

Linnethuil's mouth dropped again.

***

The carnage was made up of Orcs only. Aragorn scouted the ground, picking up strewn Elvish weapons and returning them to their owners. He finished off the remaining Orcs who still gasped for breath with a small measure of distaste. With the Elves working to return order as quickly as possible, Aragorn allowed himself a quick respite from the battle. He pitched his sword into the soft soil and leaned against it, collecting his thoughts and taking note of his small gashes, some which were leftovers that had reopened since his last tussle. What he would give for a bath and a hot meal right about now. Not to mention a soft bed, a long book and perhaps a dark-haired Elf maiden by his side. A smile tugged at his lips as he recalled the scent of wildflowers and how he always associated it with her.

"Aragorn."

Aragorn turned at the sound of his name being urgently called. Legolas was loping towards him with a worried frown. "Have you seen Buffy?"

Aragorn's forehead creased. "No," he realised. Gandalf went rushing past them, brushing Aragorn's shoulder. Aragorn caught the wizard by the elbow and Gandalf, surprised by the action, turned with a deep scowl.

"If you don't mind, Lord Aragorn, I have work to attend to."

Legolas' face became drawn. "Who is injured?" He asked.

"Galadar," Gandalf answered. He began to size Aragorn up and down. "I could use your help, Aragorn."

Aragorn nodded quickly and he and Legolas followed Gandalf to a small clearing away from the main scene of battle. Elrohir and Buffy stood beside Linnethuil and another Elf from Galadar's company, surrounding the injured guard. Elrohir heard them approach and turned his head to greet them with a dark frown. 

"Let us through," Gandalf commanded. 

Obligingly, the crowd parted revealing a panting Galadar propped up against Eliathas' chest. His right arm clutched at his chest with his hand clenched so tightly in a fist that his knuckles were turning white. His left arm hung uselessly beside him, the shoulder sloping at an unnatural angle. Legolas stopped dead in his tracks. He gazed beseechingly at Eliathas' face, hoping that his eldest brother would give him some sort of reassurance, but Eliathas ignored him and continued to whisper encouragement in Galadar's ear. Aragorn and Gandalf crouched in front of the Elf and began to gingerly inspect the gash. Galadar stifled a cry by clenching his teeth together, but the excruciating pain was clearly evident in his cloudy eyes. 

Buffy felt great empathy for him. At the same time, she didn't know if she could handle the situation. She backed up a step and knocked into Legolas. The two shared a brief, troubled glance. Legolas was about to offer his assistance to Aragorn and Gandalf when something hit him. He glanced back at Buffy with furrowed eyebrows. His gaze travelled downwards and settled on the diagonal slash on her chest. His eyes widened with alarm.

"Buffy," he whispered.

She was oblivious to his realisation; she continued to watch Aragorn and Gandalf as they worked quickly at saving Galadar's life. "Hmm?"

"You are injured," Legolas stated. Gandalf's head swivelled slightly in their direction.

Her right shoulder shrugged aloofly. "It's nothing."

"Buffy," Legolas pressed. "You should treat it before it becomes infected. Orcs are known to poison their weapons."

Buffy finally looked at him. His face was composed in all seriousness. She nodded slowly. "Okay," she said quietly.

Legolas took her by the hand and led her to the far side of the camp where the horses were swaying nervously against one another for comfort. He reached into the side pack of his horse and brought out a small bundle. Buffy peered over his shoulder to see what it was. He stuffed it into his tunic and then reached into the pack again and brought out a curved piece of hide fattened with water and a small rag. He handed them to her.

"Here. Wash out your wound. I'll prepare the herbs."

Buffy looked at him, baffled. "Herbs? What, you're gonna put oregano on it?"

Legolas gave her the same look she had just given him. "What?"

Buffy shook her head with a smile. "Nevermind. I'll trust you."

He gave her a quizzical grin and then walked away from her. She clutched the water bag in her arm and looked about her. She wandered into the bushes a short distance away and knelt on the soft ground. She quickly checked for prying eyes, and satisfied that there weren't any in sight, she peeled off her sweat and blood-drenched shirt. She gauged the wound with her eyes, grimacing at the thought of the scar it would make. She poured a small amount of water on the cloth and began to dab at the cut, wincing at the stinging that the cool liquid brought on. As her body adjusted to the fresh pain, she quickened the cleaning, surprised that it travelled from her right ribs all the way to her left shoulder. When she examined her left shoulder, she stopped. Her bra strap was cut. 

"Shit," she muttered.

"What is it?"

Buffy gasped and covered her chest self-consciously with her arms. She looked up at Legolas, feeling the hot redness begin to flood her cheeks. "Um, nothing," she stammered. "I just, kind of, broke the stupid strap..." She stared at the ground as she was now sure that her entire face looked like a tomato.

"Here," he said as he knelt beside her. "Let me help."

She refused to meet his gaze as he gracefully grasped the two broken ends and tied them tightly into a knot. He glanced at the other strap and frowned. "Well, it's not perfect but it should do the trick." His frown deepened. "What is this?"

Buffy thought she would choke. "It's a...ohmigod. I can't believe I have to explain the function of a bra."

"A what?"

Buffy shook her head furiously. "Nothing," she said firmly. 

Legolas swallowed. Apparently he had just touched on a bad subject. He noticed her arms clutching her chest tightly. "Are you cold?"

Buffy looked at him ludicrously. "No."

He stared at her blankly for a few blinks before he held up a small wooden dish that had a thick grey...something in it. "The herbs. This will speed up the healing."

Buffy nodded and smiled at him. "Thank you." Her arms still covered her chest.

Legolas nodded with her but didn't move. A prolonged and awkward silence ensued. Legolas cleared his throat. "If you want the herbs, you are going to have to remove your arms."

Buffy's eyes widened. "Right." Slowly, she let her arms drop. 

Legolas dabbed a cloth into the grey mixture and was about to sponge it on when he stopped. His eyebrows shot up. "I – I am terribly sorry – I didn't realise...well, I didn't know that – that, well..." he stammered furiously but couldn't seem to remove his eyes off her chest.

Buffy started to laugh. "Yeah, I guess not. It's okay. Welcome to your first bra. And if you can figure out how to unhook them one-handed, you're officially a pro."

Legolas' forehead creased as he cocked his head at her.

She shook her head and laughed some more. "Forget it. Come on, let's just get this over with."

Legolas nodded and proceeded, but noticed that his hand shook slightly as he neared her bare skin. He lathered it on lightly but Buffy still hissed. He stopped immediately and studied her. "Are you alright?"

Buffy nodded, pursing her lips tightly. 

Legolas continued gently but worked as quickly as he could. When the entire wound was covered he sat back and stared at her. "Better?"

Buffy smiled gratefully. "It's kind of numbing. Much better," she affirmed. He stood slowly but Buffy stayed on the ground, stretching out her long-sleeved shirt in front of her. She growled. It was officially ruined. 

Legolas looked at her. "What is it?"

"My shirt," she groaned. "I paid a lot for this stupid thing and some butt ugly Orc goes and slices it into nothing."

"I'll find you a tunic," Legolas suggested.

Buffy pouted. "Thanks, but it just won't be the same." She looked up at him. "Do you think it'll go with jeans?" she asked hopefully.

Legolas smiled broadly at her. "Of course. We wear them all the time." He continued on his path towards the horses but stopped when he was out of her vision. He leaned against a tree and let out a shaky breath.

Sweet Elbereth, she was perfect.

***

It took Rupert Giles three tries before he digested the paragraph in front of him. The words seem to swim on the page; even the diagram on the opposite page refused to shed light on the subject. He finally slammed the book shut and threw it on the coffee table with a snarl. The Scooby gang stopped and eyed him warily.

"Giles, are you alright?" Willow asked cautiously.

Rupert rubbed his weary eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, Willow, I'm perfectly alright. Aside from a completely wasteful amount of time spent on finding absolutely NOTHING, I'm just perfect."

Dawn gingerly picked up the large novel and flipped it open to the page Giles had been trying to read. Her forehead creased. "Giles, why were you reading about vampires? I thought we were supposed to be looking up magical sphere thingees and stuff."

Giles frowned at her. "Vampires?"

Dawn nodded and held the book in front of him, showing the cover that clearly read "Nosferatu...And Other Fanciful Creatures of the Night."

Giles snatched the book from her hands and scanned the cover in a panic. "I spent well over an hour reading this. I..." he trailed off as he realised just how much time had indeed been wasted. "Oh for the love of-" he began to shout but was cut off abruptly when Xander stood.

"Slow down Giles-man. This isn't the end of the world."

Giles ripped the glasses off his face. "Just what the bloody hell do you think it is then? Buffy is gone, Xander! The longer she remains, the less chance we have of retrieving her."

"Why?" Dawn asked quietly. "Why wouldn't we be able to get her back?" Her voice began to rise in both volume and pitch. "What do you think is happening to her?" Dawn stood up and walked in front of Giles with anxious eyes. "Do you think she might be..." her voice choked as she thought of losing her sister, yet again.

Giles sighed and grasped Dawn by the shoulders. "No, I don't think she's-" even Giles had difficulty spitting it out. "Dead. Buffy is very resourceful and we all know she can take care of herself. My only fear is that we don't know exactly where she went. Of course, we can guess, but who knows what the situation is like on the other side. I fear she could be in grave danger."

"What about your pals?"

Giles and the Scoobies turned to Spike who was leaning against the wall with his arms hugged inside his leather duster. 

"What do you mean?" Giles asked.

Spike shrugged a shoulder. "I mean, your buds back home. They were the ones that let that bloody thing loose in the first place. Odds are, they know more than we do."

Giles nodded slowly. "You're right."

Spike snorted. "That's a first," he muttered.

"What's he talking about?" Xander asked.

Giles was frowning as he spoke. "The palantir was stolen from Watcher headquarters. I don't even know how they got a hold of it in the first place, but Spike is right." He glanced at the sulking vampire. "They would know more than we do."

"Cool!" Xander announced. "So we're going to jolly ol' England? Just what will I pack, let me see, definitely need an umbrella and maybe one of those old pipes so I can look distinguished like everyone else...the Queen likes corgies right? Because I know an old lady on my block that has a few, maybe I can borrow one from her and-"

"Xander-" Giles was staring at him ludicrously. 

Xander cocked his head. "Hey, if they call fries chips, then what do they call potato chips?"

"Crisps," Giles answered automatically and then quickly shook his head. "It doesn't matter! You're not going, any of you!"

Everyone's face fell. Xander flopped back into the armchair. "What, just because you have an accent, you get to go?"

Giles nodded furiously. "Yes, actually, that is why I get to go!"

There was a multitude of protests and Giles silenced them all with his arms waving. "I'm leaving, ALONE. Don't try pouting or snivelling because it's not going to work. I'll leave as soon as possible."

As Giles made to go upstairs, Spike stepped out in front of him. "I could go with you mate. You could use a hand. I know my way around the country."

Giles' mouth hung open for a moment before he answered. "Thank you, Spike. But I hardly think that transcontinental airlines cater to vampires." He stepped around Spike and continued upstairs, leaving a simmering vampire behind.

***

Although Willow had graciously volunteered to find the cheapest tickets via the Internet, Giles shied away from the gesture. He preferred to make his transactions face to face; that, and he generally didn't trust anything that involved those blasted computers. 

The young woman at the ticket sales desk had been exceedingly friendly, almost to the point that Giles wondered if she was intoxicated. He checked his single piece of luggage, slinging it on the rack and inspected the ticket she handed him. 

"Sir, there'll be an extra charge for you trunk."

"I'm sorry, my...?" 

The young woman blinked a few times in annoyance but never without her freakishly perky smile. "Your trunk." 

Giles' eyebrows knit themselves together. "I didn't bring a..." Suddenly a thought dawned on him. His eyes shot up to the ceiling as his hands clenched into balls by his side. "Oh. My trunk," he said through gritted teeth. He looked back at the girl who was still smiling widely. "Yes, could I see my, ah, trunk then?" 

The young woman looked momentarily stunned and her smile wavered slightly. "You want to see your trunk?" She asked with a small measure of disbelief. 

Giles nodded and found started smiling in a sarcastic version of the one she had previously presented to him. "Well, it is terribly important that I inspect my trunk before the flight. I would be ever so disappointed if something were to happen to my, ah - " 

"Yes sir, I'll locate that trunk for you right away-" 

"You see it was filled with my great Aunt...Dorothy's effects-" 

"I believe it's in bay 2, just downstairs if you follow those signs to the cargo loading bay-" 

"It even had my great Uncle's urn inside. Poor Uncle Lionel, you see he had this terrible infection in his gastro-" 

"Thank you sir, you have a nice day now." 

Giles wandered away towards the cargo bay still muttering about his made-up relatives and all their ailments while the pretty young girl at the counter frowned and hacked away at her keyboard furiously.

***

Spike cried out in alarm as the trunk's hatch was ripped wide open. "Close it! Close it! It's burning, the sun! It's-"

Giles placed a suffocating hand over Spike's mouth. "Shut up, you fool! There's no sun, you're still in the airport."

Spike immediately relaxed and wrenched Giles' hand off his mouth. "Yeah, I knew that."

Giles stood and motioned with his hand. "Get out. Your free ticket ends here."

Spike refused to move. "You can't kick me out. You'll kill me if you do."

Giles pointed to his chin. "Can you see the concern on my face?" It was a line he had stolen from Buffy.

Spike folded his arms across his chest. "Not moving. Sorry old man, face it. You're stuck with me."

Giles leaned in and grasped the top of the trunk. "Fine. Perhaps I'll send you to the tropics. Let's see how well your skin puts up with the Caribbean sun." He smiled maliciously as he slammed the lid down on a panicked Spike who began kicking and punching at the lid. He locked the trunk and patted it reassuringly. He was about to walk away when he noticed several cargo workers eyeing him suspiciously. 

"My dead Uncle's trunk," he announced as he pointed to it. "Some say it's still haunted by his spirit."

There were several smirks and 'yeah right's but still, those that ended up loading the trunk onto the British Airways flight were somewhat apprehensive. They swore the trunk moved on more than one occasion. 


	10. Snow

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For fear of raving ferrets (???) I have made the executive decision to put all other stories on hold and try my hardest to complete this one. Still can't promise timely updates, but hopefully this one will get finished quite soon.

The tunic was light green with embroidered swirls of silver streaking their way across the chest. It was made from soft leather, almost suede-like. It was too big for her; she'd had to roll the sleeves up and Legolas graciously lent her a large belt to cinch in the excess fabric at her waist. Then the belt was too big so she'd had to wrap it around twice. In the end it all worked out with minimal amounts of puzzled staring from the Mirkwood Elves. 

Aragorn smiled slightly and nodded at her. "Made for a true warrior."

Buffy cocked her head at him. "I hope that was sincere and not sarcasm."

Aragorn shook his head. "Milady, I don't even know the meaning of the word." Which was, in fact, true.

Buffy stared at him for a second longer to judge whether or not he was about to burst into laughter. But the Ranger seemed true to his word and continued to meet her scrutiny with the calm demeanour she had come to associate him with. Finally, she smiled too and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Okay, you pass."

"Strike the camp!" 

Buffy and Aragorn looked to where Eliathas was shouting orders. "Gather all equipment and pile the dead."

"Should we burn them, my liege?" An anonymous voice asked.

Eliathas shook his head. "Nay. That would only attract more unwanted company." Eliathas glanced at Buffy as he said this. Her face began to burn and she unconsciously clenched her hands into fists.

"Do not let it anger you."

Legolas' soft voice startled her. He walked up to her with his horse reined by his side. "That is his way with all who serve beneath him. You are no exception."

Buffy shook her head and grumbled. She threw a quick glare in Eliathas' direction and looked back at Legolas. "How do you deal with that?"

Legolas stroked his horse's mane. "Perhaps the same as all younger siblings do." He patted his horse on the neck and grinned at Buffy. "I'm sure that Dawn could speak the same of you."

Buffy's head dropped. She kicked the ground and jammed her fists on top of her hips. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess she could. But I don't treat her _that_ badly!" She protested. "And if I do, it's only for her safety. I mean, God, you've seen the kid. It's like she's wearing a sign that says 'yes, I am naive, please hurt me!' I only do it because..." she shrugged as she tailed off. "I care."

Legolas' hand rested on her upper arm. "You are a good sister. And a good friend. You are true to those you love most. That is what makes you a powerful warrior and a..." his voice failed as he eyes searched for the words to complete his thought. He looked to the ground as his cheeks began to colour.

"A what?" Buffy asked.

Legolas' mouth opened and closed silently as he stared wide-eyed at her. Eliathas shouted again for camp to be struck. Legolas jumped. "Yes, well. Back to work then."

He rushed off before Buffy could stop him. "Strange Elf," she muttered as she shook her head. 

She looked about for work to be done but before she could move, Eliathas blocked her path. "We need help gathering the horses. Some were driven off by the battle. I believe Gandalf, in particular, is without his horse."

He stalked off without waiting for her to respond. She had a strong inclination to give him a mock salute but instead resigned herself to the given task.

***

Aragorn tightened the bridle on his horse while watching Legolas' back. The Elf had been working disjointedly, with no real purpose or organization to his duties. Now his Elven friend was stuffing spare tunics and supplies into his horse's side pack without bothering to sort or separate the items from each other. Aragorn's forehead creased. This was highly unlike Legolas, who was usually the height of cleanliness and order. Then Aragorn looked past Legolas' shoulder and saw the fixture of his companion's attention. Buffy was wandering the woods, whistling for some odd reason.

"She is a remarkable creature," Aragorn said quietly.

Legolas brushed the horse's neck. "She's not so different from the others. But I suppose her instinct is somewhat more attuned. Her sire was bred from the-"

Aragorn clasped Legolas' shoulder tightly to silence his rambling. "I meant the girl."

Legolas' eyebrows knitted together. "Oh." He looked up and stared off into the woods where Buffy was cautiously approaching an oak brown gelding. She was holding both hands out in front of her and wiggling her fingers in a futile attempt to coax the horse in closer. The gelding was eyeing her warily and stomping his front hoof. "Yes," Legolas said quietly. "She is remarkable."

"Quite refreshing too," Aragorn continued, "that she manages your brother with so much ease. There are few who can stand up to the heir of Mirkwood like that."

Legolas turned back to the straps on his horse. "She is not from this realm. Her people were not raised the same as we." He turned to Aragorn and studied his face. "Her expectations are different from ours."

Aragorn frowned. "How so?"

Legolas sighed and shook his head. He glanced again at Buffy who looked like she wanted to hug the horse. "She would not be happy here. She would never be treated the way a warrior woman should be."

Aragorn said nothing as he backed away and concentrated on his own tasks. But in his heart he knew that Legolas was right.

***

Buffy was stalking closer to the dark brown horse that towered above her. He seemed to be standing calmly, but Buffy suspected that he was taunting her. He snorted softly, staring at her with wide eyes and alert ears. He stomped the ground and shook his mane. Buffy held her arms in front of her in a non-threatening "see-I-have-no-gun" stance that seemed appropriate. She began talking in a high pitched voice, softly and melodic. "Come here, I'm not gonna hurt you. See? I'm not an ugly orc. Come on, you don't have to be scared."

The horse dipped his head down to sniff one of her hands. No food. He snorted disgustedly and turned his back on her, walking further into the forest. 

Buffy growled. "Come here you stupid horse," she said in her normal tone of voice while traipsing after it. The horse swished its tail at her. Buffy began to jog. The horse began to trot. Buffy went into full out running. The horse, ears twitching with alarm, galloped away from her. Suddenly, the Slayer disappeared.

The horse glanced behind him. He stopped and gave a sharp cry. He glanced in the other direction. Now thoroughly confused, the horse completely turned around, facing the direction he had been running away from. There was nothing there.

There was a savage war howl that startled the horse, but before he could run away Buffy flung herself on top of him. The horse reared and Buffy hung on for dear life. He began to gallop at full steam ahead.

"Ha ha!" Buffy shouted, quite proud that she outsmarted the horse. Then she realized that no matter how hard she tugged back on the reins, the horse was neither stopping nor slowing down. "Oh shit," she whispered. Panicking, she dug her heels into the horse's side and pulled back sharply on the reins. The horse grunted wildly but put the brakes on, albeit too quickly for Buffy to prepare for it.

She found herself on her back in front of the halted horse, still holding onto the reins. "Stupid horse," she groaned as she rolled over onto her stomach and pushed herself up. As she passed his head he tried to fling it in the other direction, but she gave him a curt tug on the reins. "Shut up," she muttered. She was about to mount him again when she saw that one of the side packs had slipped and fallen to the ground.

Still holding the reins, she stooped down to grab it but found the heavy leather pack to be awkward with only one grip. As she was bringing it up, the horse backed up quickly and jostled the pack. Buffy turned to glare at the horse for a moment. She fastened the pack back onto the saddle and then stood frozen, staring at the saddle. She heard a whispering voice.

The horse was trying to get away by chewing on the reins. "Shh," Buffy commanded and, oddly, the horse stopped. She could hear it again, and this time it was louder but she still could not make out the words. She looked around for its location and then recognized that it was coming from behind her. She turned around and scoured the forest with her eyes to find the curious voice. Then she looked down.

It was a black sphere. She squinted as she tried to remember where she had seen one before. As she crouched down to pick it up, she recalled that that was what had been needed to return Legolas and Aragorn to Mirkwood. It was also what was needed to return her to Sunnydale. She hummed thoughtfully as she picked up the heavy ball and cradled it in the crook of her elbow. "Except," she began as she stared at it, "I don't remember you whispering last time we met."

The whispering was growing louder, and she could now tell that it was a male voice. But it didn't sound entirely human. And it wasn't speaking any language she understood. She thought it laughed. She concentrated, gazing into it as she tried to discern its voice.

The world around her grew silent. Dimly, she thought she heard the horse cry. She let go of the reins without comprehending what she had just done. She now grasped the ball with two hands and stared fixedly at it. If she focused hard enough, she thought she could see movement. There was swirling deep inside the ball, as if a fine mist was trapped in it somehow. For some reason, she had a sudden urge to shake it like an Etch-A-Sketch. So she did.

The voice now sounded down right angry. The mist turned into bright streaks of lightning. The voice was positively booming, commanding her, but Buffy still had no clue what it was saying.

"It's times like these you wish you had a language switch," Buffy remarked.

The lightning inside the orb grew until it morphed into flames. The flames took the shape of a circle. Buffy peered into the sphere. The circle stretched until it reached both sides of the sphere. The circle seemed to part in the middle, but Buffy saw that a long black line was forming, not cutting the circle but just filling it. Sort of like a pupil, she realized. It was an eye.

It was pulsing. Suddenly, Buffy felt cold air on her eyes. Her temples began to ache. Gasping, she threw the orb down. She rubbed her eyes and kept her hands over them for a few moments. She reopened her eyes and found herself breathing quickly, almost wheezing for air. She placed a hand on her chest and was surprised to feel her heart beating wildly. The orb was at her feet. She glanced at it for a second and felt the thumping of her temples again. She turned away.

The horse was still there, staring at her. She approached it, and it did not back away from her. She pulled the grey blanket that was tied to the back of the saddle and unrolled it. She walked back over to the orb and threw the blanket over top of it. She was about to pick the whole bundle up when she froze.

She was frightened of it. "This is so lame," she scolded herself. It was a _ball_. It couldn't even hit her or bite her. But as she started to kneel her legs felt weak. She stared at her hands that trembled visibly. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she crouched quickly and picked the bundle up. Her heart was thumping like a hammer. She fumbled with the side pack until the top opened and stuffed everything in. Taking a shaky breath, she briefly considered riding the horse back to the camp until she glanced at the leather pack. She decided to lead the horse back to camp. And to give the horse a long, long lead.

***

She looked tired, Legolas noted grimly. He could hardly blame her; the fight could be exhausting for mortals, but he had seen her in battle before and it seemed to barely affect her. As she led Gandalf's gelding back into the camp he saw the dark circles rimming her eyes, the way her shoulders were slumped, and even a slight misstep that made her stumble. 

He approached her from the side, but she did not notice him until he touched her shoulder softly. "Troubles with Gandalf's horse?"

"Hmm?" Buffy mumbled distractedly. She glanced at Legolas, replaying what he had just said over and over and until it finally sunk in. "Oh. The horse." She gave the horse a stroke on his neck. "Nah. He's not such a bad guy."

Legolas studied her. "And you? How are you, Buffy?"

Buffy shrugged. A hand fluttered to graze her temple softly. "I'm fine." She shivered. 

Legolas looked alarmed for a moment before realizing what was wrong. He looked up to the sky where grey clouds were gathering above. "The first snow is on its way."

Buffy closed her eyes tightly as she concentrated on processing the conversation. "Snow?"

Legolas did not notice the way she strained to comprehend what he was saying; he still looked up at the looming clouds with a small smile. "Yes."

"Never seen snow before," Buffy remarked quietly.

Legolas looked at her as if she had four heads. "Never?"

Buffy shook her head and immediately regretted the action. The throbbing in her temple was back. She winced and rubbed both sides of her head. 

Legolas did not miss her obvious discomfort. "You are not well," he whispered.

Buffy frowned deeply. "No, I'm okay. Really." She passed the reins of Gandalf's horse to Legolas. "Can you see that your buddy gets his horse? I'm gonna go get some water."

Legolas nodded and watched Buffy as she trudged away. There was something about the situation that wasn't sitting right with him. Something that made his chest tighten slightly. Legolas frowned and stared at the dirt beneath his boots. What were his senses trying to tell him?

Suddenly he felt a breeze by his ear. He whirled around, scanning his surroundings but finding nothing. He shook his head, feeling somewhat foolish that a little wind had made him jump. He moved to take the horse over to Gandalf, but stopped. He turned and stared at the horse's saddle. 

Legolas shivered, but did not feel cold. 


	11. The Sea of Waking Dreams

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T.D. WIDOW: Yep, continuity error. But in my own defence I say this: snow that only falls for one night in +30 degree heat and isn't cold, ain't snow. Where I come from...now THAT'S snow!

THE SEA OF WAKING DREAMS

Rupert Giles stood in front of the outdoor cargo bays in Heathrow Airport, watching the airline crews unloading his cumbersome trunk from the back of the Boeing plane. This was far too risky for his liking; he had fretted over this moment the entire flight over the Atlantic. Now he stood, fingering the coins in his pockets as he waited impatiently for his trunk to arrive at his feet. Two young men staggered with the trunk between them, glaring at him as they dropped it daringly close to his toes. He nodded his thanks, and in return they wiped the sweat off their brow before throwing another glare in his direction.

He managed to drag the trunk inside the airport, but was then forced to sit on it until sunset. He drummed his fingers on the top, hoping that the sound would be so annoying that the slumbering vampire inside would be forced to wake up. It was to no avail; Spike snored loudly inside the trunk and Giles had to check his watch every five minutes until the sun made its final descent.

Fed up with his duty, Giles dragged the trunk to a secluded corner in the overflowing airport and threw the lid up. Spike was curled into a fetal position and did not yet have his eyes open. In fact, he was still snoring.

"Oh for goodness sakes!" Giles whispered through clenched teeth. "Get up you lazy oaf!" He nudged Spike with a rough elbow in the vampire's ribs. 

"Sod off, wanker," Spike murmured sleepily as he turned over to avoid future elbows.

Giles rolled his eyes and set his mouth in his trademarked frown. "That's it. I'm throwing you outside into the street. Hope you've got your SPF 2000 on, my boy, because you're about to get awfully tanned."

That got Spike's attention. He was sitting up in an instant, glancing back and forth with panicked eyes. Realization hit him a few moments later when he managed to get a glimpse of the darkening sky above them. "Not funny, mate," he admonished.

Rupert's eyes looked crazed with annoyance. "Nor was it meant to be. This is your one and final warning, Spike. If you get in my way, if you do anything to harm this mission whatsoever..." Giles shook his head and looked away.

Spike grasped the sides of the trunk and sighed. "Yeah, come on watcher. You were so close to gettin' a good threat in there somehwere."

Giles turned a sharp eye towards him. "Do you vampires think that the Slayers are all born with stakes in their hands? Did it never occur to you that they needed to be taught how to fight? And guess who taught them?"

Spike cocked his head. "Yeah, got it. An' where's your stake, big boy?"

Giles blinked. Then he stood and straightened his vest quickly. "Yes, well. I think you've learnt your lesson. Shall we go then?"

Spike smirked and hopped out of the trunk.

***

Legolas rode side-by-side to Buffy. She had been oddly silent since they ventured out of the campsite. Soft flakes of snow drifted lazily to the earth and settled lightly on her hair and shoulders, coating them in a thin layer that Buffy barely even noticed. She stared blearily in front of her, swaying in her saddle from the momentum of the horse's footsteps. He could stand her silence no longer.

"Buffy," he prompted softly.

She murmured something intelligible but didn't seem to absorb his voice.

"Buffy," he stated more forcefully.

"Dol Goldur," she muttered.

Legolas froze. He reached across the distance between their horses and squeezed her shoulder.

Startled, Buffy immediately sat up and took in her surroundings with surprise. Belatedly, she realized that it was Legolas who shook her out of her reverie. She gave him a half-hearted smile. "Sorry," she apologized. "I kind of zoned out there for a minute."

Legolas' eyes bore into her face sombrely. "You said something a moment ago. How did you know that name?"

Buffy blinked at him. "What are you talking about?" She asked with a vacant stare.

Legolas glanced around quickly to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "You said, 'Dol Goldur'," he whispered. "Where did you learn that name?"

Buffy shook her head and shrugged. "Sorry. No comprendes." 

Legolas gave her a funny look but let the matter drop. He frowned; he knew that he had heard her correctly. Perhaps she was hiding something from him. He threw another glimpse in her direction and was shocked to see her shiver. It took a quick second for him to remember that he did not feel the chill as she did.

"You are cold," he stated matter-of-factly.

Buffy turned slowly to him, attempting to suppress another shiver. "And you're not?"

Legolas shook his head. "We do not feel the cold." He reached behind him and rummaged around in his satchel. A moment later a rich-brown cloak emerged. He passed it to her.

She held the cloak in her hands, absorbing the odd warmth emanating from the soft fabric. "Thank you." She flung it around her shoulders and was instantly gratified by the extra layer. She glanced down at herself; at her mud-drenched boots that at one time were black; at her dirt-laden, blood-splattered jeans; her borrowed, three-times too big tunic; and now her pristine Elvish cloak. "I'm getting more elfish all the time," she remarked with a laugh.

Legolas threw her a puzzled frown followed by a shake of his head. "No, it's Elvish. Not elf-" he stopped when he saw the smile forming at the corners of her mouth. "No matter," he finished quickly.

Buffy laughed. "I make you flustered, don't I?"

Legolas shook his head. "You do not make me...what does 'flustered' mean?"

"This," she pointed at him. "This is exactly what it means. I'm turning your whole world upside down, aren't I?"

Legolas was about to retort but closed his mouth. He thought about it for a moment. "It is true," he said softly. She still smiled, but Legolas saw the way the smile seemed distant, almost sad. He looked down at his horse's head. "There is no one like you in Mirkwood," he continued. "In all of Middle Earth, for that matter." Buffy stared silently ahead of her. Legolas reached over and touched her cheek lightly. "It is good that you came. You breathe life into our woods once again."

Buffy looked up into his face with a grin. "Watch yourself Leggo. That was almost downright sentimentality."

Legolas smiled but turned away quickly. What was with his blushing lately?

***

Giles had barely taken his finger off the door buzzer when it was opened hastily and blocked by a stout woman. Her frizzy red hair appeared to be pulled back, but unruly bits in the front framed her make-up free face. She eyed the two suspiciously and frowned.

"What d'you want?" She asked quickly.

Rupert's forehead creased as he studied her. He was about to respond but instead took a step back to check the number above the brick townhouse. "Is, ah, Mr. Woodson in?"

"What d'you care?" She asked accusingly.

He heard Spike start to laugh behind him and he turned to throw a quick, silencing glare in the vampire's direction before collecting his own patience. Giles took off his glasses, cleaned them, replaced them, and shoved his hands in his pockets. Speaking very slowly and feigning calmness, he replied "Because I wish to speak with him, naturally."

The woman harrumphed and held the door open for them. "An' who should ah tell 'im is wanting t'speak wi' 'im?"

Giles stepped inside the hall; hands still jammed inside his pockets. "You may tell him Rupert is here to see him."

She didn't move. Giles blinked at her. She nodded in Spike's direction. "An' your friend?"

Giles stammered for a moment. "Oh, him, well he's not imp-" Spike nudged him sharply in the side. "Billy," Giles spat out. "His name is Billy." Spike threw him a quizzical look. Giles shrugged.

The woman eyed them for a moment before turning to leave. "Stay here," she ordered. "Ah'll collect 'im directly."

The two watched the short woman leave before sighing in tandem. "Wonderful maid, she is," Spike commented.

"She's a model of professionalism," Giles agreed.

They heard her stomping down the hall towards them minutes later. Giles frowned; the woman was pudgy, there could be no doubt of that, but her footsteps sounded like they belonged to a stampeding rhinoceros. She stood in front of them with her hands on her hips in military-style rigidity. "He'll see you in th' parlour, Mr. Rupert."

Giles and Spike both moved forward, but the housekeeper slapped a hand on Spike's chest. "An' where d'you think you're goin'? Ah don't recall sendin' you off."

It was Spike's turn to blink at her. He looked to Giles who grinned maliciously before making off towards the parlour. The woman removed her hand and replaced it on her hip. She turned her head slightly and scrutinized the vampire. "Do ah know you from somewheres?"

Spike looked panicked for a second. "Ah, no. No, I don't think so."

She wagged her finger at him. "Ah know ah know you from somewheres." She stroked her chin as she stared at the floor in deep thought. "Billy, Billy, Billy," she repeated to herself.

Spike shifted nervously on his feet. Of all the people in the world to have to keep company with...

Suddenly, she looked back up at him with a bright face. "Ah know!" She exclaimed. "You're that singer, aren't you?"

Spike's mouth dropped. "Singer?"

***

Gandalf wrinkled his eyebrows and nose at the sight of the thick clumps of snow coming down in swift volume. The Elves around him seemed not to notice. He looked back at Aragorn. Aragorn's eyebrows raised in silent question. Gandalf made a dramatic show of looking up into the sky. Aragorn nodded slowly and lead his horse up beside Gandalf's. 

"This weather is unnatural," Gandalf muttered.

Aragorn leaned in towards Gandalf. "They seem not to care," he said with a nudge of his chin in Linnethuil's direction.

Gandalf shook his head. "I suspect that even the unnatural does not raise any alarm with them; they are so used to all their days being filled with such."

Aragorn nodded. "What should do we do?" He asked quietly.

Gandalf grumbled before answering. "There is nothing we can do but hope that we make it back to the kingdom alive."

Aragorn studied him with agitation. "What do you suspect?"

Gandalf shook his head, fingering the deep grooves on his walking stick that was laid out in front of him on the saddle. "An old evil awakens," he whispered. "Let us hope that we pass under it without notice."

Aragorn shivered, although it was not from the cold.

***

William Woodson sat with his back turned to Rupert Giles. The Council member stared ahead at the volumes of books lining the oak shelves, drumming his finger on the small table beside him. Giles watched him serenely and said nothing.

Finally, William turned his face slightly, giving Rupert a glimpse of his cheek. "The palantir, I suppose? That's what this impromptu visit is about?"

Giles retained his silence.

William carried on. "And I suppose that you are not here to return it."

"No," Giles said softly.

William chuckled cynically. "It never ceases to amaze me how the Watchers manage to justify their actions, no matter how selfish they may be."

"Selfish?" Giles repeated.

William turned, or rather, his entire chair turned. Rupert's mouth opened slightly. "Paralysed? What happened?" He asked.

William shrugged. "A somewhat minor consequence. You should have seen what happened to some of the others."

Giles shook his head. "I don't understand."

William smirked. "No, of course not. Those who are proclaimed guardians have certain duties. If we fail in those duties, well," he shrugged and pointed to his legs. "Let's just say that there are punishments in line."

The comprehension drained Rupert's face of its colour. "The Council did this?"

William shrugged again. "It could have been worse." He sipped his tea and cupped it in his hands as he contemplated another fate. "I could have accepted the severance package."

Giles grimaced. He took a tentative step towards William. "I didn't come here to mock you," he started. "But I need your help."

William grunted. "I guess I don't need to inquire whether or not this has to do with your Slayer, hmm?"

Giles set his jaw rigidly. "She's trapped," he affirmed.

"Trapped?" William took another sip of his tea. "Where?"

"In another realm."

William leaned forward, intrigued. "In the palantir's realm, correct?"

Giles nodded. 

William sat back and stroked his black moustache. "We've never been able to fully control a portal between the two worlds. There's too much...interference. But I might be able to help you."

A look of relief settled on Giles' face until William started his next sentence. "For a price." The look vanished. William smiled, noting the dread flash across Rupert's eyes. "The palantir must be returned."

Giles' forehead creased. "To the Council?"

William laughed. "Heavens, no! To me."

Giles studied the floor for a moment. "William, do you think that wise?"

William glared at Giles. "If you want my help, old friend, it doesn't matter." There was a metallic creaking as the automated wheelchair pivoted away from Giles. "The choice is yours."

***

It was not warm enough to melt the snow but it was not cool enough to keep the flakes light. Instead, the snow clumped together, falling in large masses and sticking to the boughs of trees. The horses' footsteps faltered as they slipped in the mush of wet snow mixed with mud and shook their manes to rid themselves of it. The Elves brushed away the swiftly gathering clumps of snow on their shoulders impatiently. Legolas' head turned sharply as he heard the loud cracking of a bough giving way to the weight of the snow amassed on top of it. He eyed the forest with a frown.

"What's wrong?" Buffy asked.

Legolas continued to survey the scene taking place all around him. "This snow comes too quickly. The forest is not yet ready for it."

Buffy nodded. "Me neither. If I had known that I'd be stepping into winter-land then I'd have grabbed my parka on the way out." She thought for a moment. "Not that I even have one." She cocked her head. "Or even know anyone who has one."

The line of horses and Elves stopped abruptly. Buffy threw a questioning glance in Legolas' direction. Legolas frowned even deeper in response. Buffy looked behind her to where Gandalf and Aragorn rode. They, too, wore the same expression. "What's going on?" She whispered across to Legolas.

"I know not."

Buffy pushed herself up to peer over the heads of the Elves in front of her. The two Elves in the lead were leaning in close to each other, gesturing with their hands to the path in front of them, and obviously arguing. Eliathas' black horse thundered from the rear and past her own horse to confront the two in front. The two Elves stopped and sat up with erect backs, staring in front of them. Even from this distance, Buffy could see the infuriated glare of Eliathas streaking a path through the two Elves. Linnethuil's horse stopped beside Legolas'. 

Legolas leaned across his horse while still watching Eliathas rip into the two Elves. "What is it, brother?"

"I believe we have been led astray."

Legolas turned his head to stare at Linnethuil with an open mouth. "How so?"

Linnethuil glanced at the whitened sky and shrugged. "It would seem that nature has a different path in store for us this fine day." He looked back at Legolas with a wry grin.

Legolas' eyes narrowed. "On any other day I would appreciate your humour."

"Have it your way then, Legolas." He nudged his horse to go forward. "Plainly, we are lost."

Buffy was staring at Legolas. "Is that possible? I thought Elves had a built-in GPS system or something."

"Whatever GPS is, I can assure you we do not possess it. But we cannot be lost. The guides are merely confused by the snow covering the path. It is highly unlikely-"

He was intent on continuing his pep-talk when Eliathas' voice boomed out. "Turn back! This is not the right path."

Buffy shrugged. "Apparently it is highly likely."

Legolas wore a face of pure confusion. This was the second time he had been lost in his own homeland in a three-day span. It was beginning to get embarrassing. "What could cause this?" He muttered furiously to himself.

"Angmar." Buffy replied.

Legolas felt his blood chill at the sound of her voice. Gandalf and Aragorn halted their horses. The Elves behind Legolas and Buffy rode around them, throwing curt glances as they passed. The line moved on, but the four stayed.

"How is it you know that name, Buffy?" Gandalf asked gently. Aragorn and Legolas stared at her.

Buffy shrugged as she stared at the ground. She lifted a hand up to rub her eyes. "My head hurts," she mumbled.

"When did you head first start to hurt?" Gandalf continued. 

Buffy shrugged again. "Since I looked into that stupid ball."

  



	12. Sleeping

__

T.D. Widow: I'm a redneck Albertan and last week we were sitting at a balmy -30ºC with about two feet of snow on the ground. How's your end looking?

****

SLEEPING ON EMPTY DREAMS

The pit of Legolas' stomach contracted with the dread realization. "The palantir," Legolas breathed.

Buffy was pinching the bridge of her nose with her eyelids squeezed shut. Gandalf laid a heavy hand on her shoulder and peered into her downcast face. "Buffy, it is of the utmost importance that you concentrate on my words. Did it speak to you? Did the palantir show you anything?"

Buffy thought for a moment then shook her head slowly. "I don't know," she sighed. "There was some mist, some lightning, and something that looked like hellfire in the shape of an eye." She shrugged. "But maybe it was in the shape of a marble, who knows."

"This is hardly the time for wit," Gandalf scolded.

Buffy looked up at him with exhaustion painting the rim of her eyes red. "Sorry," she apologized. "I tend to wit when things get a little hairy."

"We should leave," Legolas urged. "We must get her back to the kingdom." 

Aragorn nodded fervently but Gandalf sat with his eyes closed in concentration. "I fear we may have already run out of time."

The three watched him with silent intensity. Gandalf glanced at the path, or what could be seen of the path. "This storm is no coincidence. There is some darker force at play here. The palantir stirred it."

Buffy stared at the ground as her cheeks burned. "Whoops," she whispered.

"Come," Gandalf announced. "Let us find the others before night falls. We will not reach the gates of Mirkwood tonight."

* * *

"Come on come on come on come on…" Xander Harris repeated his urgent plea over and over as a desperate mantra. He sat crouched over his knees atop a stone fence, eyeing his surroundings left and right, tapping his borrowed stake on his sneaker in rhythm to his mutterings. He paused to check his watch. He looked at Anya who was leaning against the same fence, using her stake to pick out the dirt from under her nails. 

"Can you believe the nerve of these demons?" He asked exasperatedly. "My life does not revolve around theirs! I'm sick of this waiting!" He glanced at Anya for some support but she just sighed and stared straight ahead. He glanced back at his watch. "Hope my VCR picked up Baywatch."

"Demons have lives too," Anya pointed out. "We're actually quite lively, you know." She lowered her head in his direction and eyed him accusingly. "We enjoy everything this stupid mortal world has to offer, unlike _some_ humans I know." She went back to checking her nails but stopped, then turned to glare at him. "Baywatch?!?"

Xander blinked at her in incomprehension.

Anya rolled her eyes. "Oh please."

A growl from behind the fence gave Anya the chance to gasp before a vampire launched himself at her, hauling her to the ground. Xander leaped off the fence and grabbed the back of the vampire's coat, pulling him off Anya. The vampire snarled and whipped around, throwing a vicious backhand at Xander's chin. The snap of the vampire's knuckles connecting with Xander's flesh sent him stumbling backwards. Anya gathered herself up and made for the vampire's heart with her stake but his preternatural instincts sent him a warning; he turned and swiped the stake out of her hand, then wrapped one hand around her throat. Anya's eyes bulged out as the vampire lifted her off her feet, grinning up at her gaping face. She gasped for air, but nothing got through. Her feet dangled off the ground as she clawed at his hand but the grip only tightened. Suddenly, he made a funny face and looked down. The pointy end of a stake was protruding from his chest. 

"Aww shi-"

He disappeared in a fog of ash. Anya fell to the ground, gasping. Xander rushed over and helped her to her feet, supporting her under both elbows. "Are you alright?"

She was about to make some sarcastic remark but a hacking cough cut her words short. Xander gave her a small hug. "You could have been killed," he said quietly.

She waved her hand nonchalantly and was about to reassure him, could only give him wheezing coughs.

"Are you guys alright?" Willow, Dawn and Tara came loping towards them. 

Xander nodded, his arm around Anya who was beginning to get some colour back into her cheeks. "Yeah. How'd you do?"

Willow shrugged. "I managed to get one of them with a liquefying spell."

Xander grimaced. "Do I even want to know what that looks like?"

"Kind of like mushy jello," Tara surmised. 

Xander stuck his tongue out. "It was such a beautiful food up until now."

"But two of them got away," Dawn said with a frown. 

Xander studied her carefully. "Are you okay?"

Dawn nodded somewhat hesitantly, then crossed her arms over her chest protectively. Xander's eyes widened. "Dawn, you're bleeding."

The other girls all rounded on her, noticing for the first time the wide gash on her forearm. Dawn blinked in surprise, then backed up. "It's nothing. Doesn't even hurt, see?" She held her arm up, but winced. "Ow."

Willow shook her head. "Come on. We need to get you cleaned up before it gets infected."

Tara and Willow walked on either side of Dawn as they made their way out of the cemetery. Xander paused and looked back at the gravesites. "I wish Buffy was here," he sighed.

Anya coughed in agreement.

**

* * *

**

By the time the four had caught up with the line of Elves, they had already set up a perimeter for the camp. Two Elves were digging in the centre of a clearing, making a circular hearth of rocks for the fire. Tents were being erected and cloaks were being flung over the boughs of trees that were roped together; a makeshift shelter for the miserable horses covered in snow. Eliathas was in the centre, directing tasks to be given while Linnethuil organized the watches for the evening. Upon seeing them, Eliathas gave each a long glare. 

Buffy swore she heard Legolas grumble in his native language as he dismounted. Eliathas stalked over to him and spun him around with one arm. "Under these conditions I hardly think it's appropriate to dawdle."

The muscles in Legolas' cheeks twitched as he fought to maintain his composure. "Duly noted, brother," he said with strain in his voice. "There shall be no dawdling in the future." He forced a smile too.

Eliathas blinked furiously, and for a moment Buffy thought that he might smack Legolas upside the head. Instead, he muttered something quickly as he pivoted away from them.

Legolas shook his head and gave a quick sigh. "Oh, to be the youngest."

Buffy's head jerked. "Really? I mean I figured you were younger than him," she said as she pointed at Eliathas' retreating form. "But I wouldn't have guessed that you were the youngest."

"Yes," Legolas nodded. "That's so typical of older siblings. Too concerned with their own problems to note the stress they place on us long-suffering young ones." He shook his head with a dramatic sigh.

Buffy eyed him carefully to judge if he was being serious or not. Legolas threw her a lopsided grin. Buffy grinned back. "I take that back. You definitely strike me as a spoiled brat. _Totally_ the youngest."

Legolas feigned shock at her words. Buffy gave his shoulder a half-hearted punch. She smiled as she walked away. Legolas waited until she was out of earshot before he began to rub his shoulder. "Ow," he whispered.

* * *

The wind picked up, swirling the snow into mini-cyclones. The horses kept their heads lowered and their eyes downcast beneath heavy lids, leaning up against each other for warmth and lifting a single hoof to keep it out of the mounting snow. The Elves wrapped their cloaks around them and pulled the hoods up, but other than those small gestures the weather seemed to have little affect on them. Buffy and Aragorn huddled around the fire on soaked tree trunks that they dragged over from the forest. Buffy shivered wildly. Aragorn placed an arm around her shoulders. 

"You should go into the tent," he suggested.

Buffy shook her head madly. "Nope. I'm liking this fire."

Legolas stood over her and offered her a steaming bowl of soup. She accepted it graciously, pausing before eating it to warm her hands around its base. She sipped it straight from the bowl without a spoon, relishing the warmth it created in the bottom of her stomach. "This weather sucks," she remarked to no one in particular.

"You are not accustomed to it," Gandalf pointed out from across the fire.

"Not really the type of weather I'd want to be accustomed to," Buffy countered. "Snow is supposed to be light, and fluffy. Friendly."

Gandalf, Aragorn, and Legolas shared a disbelieving glance among themselves. "You have obviously never been outside your Sunny Dale," Legolas said with a shake of his head.

"Yes I have," Buffy said. Then she shrugged. "Well, Los Angeles anyway."

It was a peculiar attribute that all Elves possessed; the ability to walk on top of the snow without making a sound, no matter how crunchy or slushy it was. It was for this reason that when Eliathas' voice came behind her that Buffy jumped in her seat, spilling the hot soup on her knees and eliciting a mumbled curse. 

"We leave at first light," Eliathas announced. He glanced down at Buffy who was wiping the soup off her jeans, still swearing. "I suggest you all take your rest."

"Might I suggest you take yours as well," Gandalf said, rising to his feet. "For a leader who has not taken his, is prone to error."

Three pairs of eyes studied Eliathas for his reaction. His stormy green eyes burned furiously through Gandalf.

Gandalf smiled warmly, holding out his hands. "We have already been lost once, your highness. I would hate for that to occur again, especially in these conditions."

The muscles in Eliathas' cheeks twitched. "That was not my-"

He was cut off by Linnethuil's hand on his shoulder. "My lord," Linnethuil said softly. "Your bedding is prepared."

Eliathas slowly turned to Linnethuil and blinked. Linnethuil motioned to the tent on the other side of the fire where an Elf stood guard beside it. Eliathas glared at Linnethuil, who stared impassively back. He made a final quick stare at those gathered around the campfire before storming off. 

Linnethuil winked at Legolas before making off in the same direction.

Aragorn made a curious grunt before lighting his skinny pipe. He sat hunched over his knees, lightly grasping the pipe and chewing on the end of it while he inhaled thoughtfully.

Legolas sat on the other side of Buffy. She was staring at the fire absently; jaw clenched tightly to stop her teeth from chattering. Her arms were buried inside the cloak. Legolas rubbed her back in methodical circles. "I shall find you another cloak."

"No," Buffy said shaking her head. She stopped, hissing in pain. 

Legolas watched her with concern. "What is it?"

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut. "Nothing. This stupid headache."

"Buffy," Gandalf towered over her. "You should lie down."

"I'm fine," she growled. She was trying to bury her head in the cloak.

"'Fine' is hardly the word I would use to describe you at the moment." He stooped down and placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "Take rest, young woman. Even a warrior must know when to give in to her body's signals."

Buffy squinted at him. It felt like her eyeballs were throbbing in beat to the pounding in her temples. "Okay," she sighed. _I go from one Giles and straight to another,_ she thought with a sad smile. But true to the Giles-like character, this one was probably right too. She stood, wavered for a brief moment and then wrapped the cloak around her even tighter than before. "Twist my rubber arm."

Legolas had to mull the phrase over in his mind before shrugging as he gave up. He glanced at Gandalf who watched the Slayer shuffle into a tent. The old wizard wore a contemplative frown. 

"It is not from exhaustion, is it?" Legolas asked.

Gandalf shook his head as he sat down. "No."

Legolas swallowed. "What will we do?"

"We can only wait, Legolas."

The Elf's forehead creased under the weight of his thoughts. "Surely we must be able to..." but even he failed in his attempt to find an answer.

"We do not know what has called to her," Gandalf said evenly. "And by that reason alone, we are only given patience as our ally in her fight."

"Shouldn't we at least tell her?" Aragorn asked.

"Tell her what, Master Aragorn?"

Aragorn chewed on his pipe in response. Gandalf nodded. "We tell her nothing because we know nothing. Anything we would tell her would merely be speculation. There is no need to worry the child."

"She is not a child," Legolas stated. He kicked the ground, then got to his feet. The other two watched him carefully. "There is no need to treat her like one." 

**

* * *

**

Spike walked three steps towards the hotel window, paused, looked out, sighed, and walked three steps back the other way. He had been repeating this motion for well over an hour. Giles was hunched over his notes, tapping his pencil on the table and thinking out loud in a low mumble. Spike went through his routine again but instead of sighing as he paused at the window he scratched the back of his head, flung his arms out to the side as he turned around, and was about to yell something rude, but he stopped. He shook his head, placed his fists on his hips, and centred his weight on his left leg. Giles continued to mumble. Spike watched him, rolled his eyes and looked out the window. Still not satisfied, Spike turned again and opened his mouth but nothing came out. He stood awkwardly; straining to think of the correct words but his thoughts failed him. He turned back to the window with a frustrated growl. Fog drifted in from the river Thames and settled over London like a sick pall. Thick clouds hung overhead and obscured the night sky. Everywhere Spike looked it felt as though he was trapped in an envelope. It didn't help that he was also trapped in a hotel room with a middle-aged man forever stuck in a tweed-jacket lifestyle that afforded no luxuries like t.v.'s, nightclubs, or women in short leather skirts. Spike threw another wilting glare over his shoulder at Giles.

Giles took off his glasses and looked up at Spike with an exasperated frown. "For God's sake Spike, just get out with it."

Spike's eyes travelled to the floor and back up into Giles' face. He shrugged nonchalantly. "Don't know what you're talking about."

Giles took in a long breath as his gaze on the vampire hardened. "Then you won't mind if I return to my work for another few hours. Undisturbed."

Spike gave him a compliant grin. "Whatever makes you happy makes me happy."

Giles eyed him warily. "Fine," he said curtly. He replaced his glasses on his face and had just flipped the page in his book when Spike started shouting.

"This is ridiculous! Your mate agreed to help, so why is this taking so long?"

"William will prepare on his own end, for now we need to-"

Spike cut him off. "She's been over there too long!"

"Such concern, Spike." Giles leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. "She is a Slayer, you know. She's had a lot of practice killing demons. Such as yourself."

The shot bounced off of Spike unnoticed. "I know she can handle herself. It's just..." He shook his head and scratched the back of his hair as he returned to face the window.

Giles laughed softly. "Then what? The fact that there are two men with her? Well, one man, one Elf."

Spike didn't turn around. His jaw went rigid.

The smile on Giles' face disappeared. It was replaced by a deep frown. "You can't be serious, Spike. Why on earth would you be jealous of..." Giles seemed to answer his own pondering. He rubbed his face as the full complications of the thought settled upon him. He stared at the tabletop. "You aren't in love with her, are you?"

Spike faced the window and didn't say a word.

Giles stood up. "You aren't, are you?" There was a certain urgency in his voice. "Because you are a-"

"Vampire," Spike finished for him. He turned to face the Watcher with a grim look. "Stupid, ain't it?"

A muscle in Giles' cheek twitched. "Intolerable, more like it." He shook his head as rage began to build within him. "She is a Slayer. You are a murderer of Slayers. You should-"

"I should hate her!" Spike yelled. His voice began to shake as desperation took over. "You don't know what it's like!" He grabbed Giles by the collar roughly. "You have no idea!"

"Nor do I want to." Giles pushed Spike away and straightened his jacket. "This a ridiculous infatuation. Nothing more."

"Would she say the same thing?" Spike asked quietly.

Horror gathered in the pit of Rupert's stomach. He scrunched his fists inside his pockets. He fought to maintain his calm composure, but the thought of it made his eyes widen and the colour in his face drain. "I trust that Buffy has more wits to her than you do."

Spike harrumphed. "Don't think you know your girl quite as well as you think you do."

Giles' face was set in grim lines. "I know her well enough," he whispered. He walked over to the table and took his seat. "Far better than you'll ever know her."

Spike stormed into the next room. Giles could hear the muted noise of the television turning on through the walls. He went back to his work, but found it difficult to concentrate on anything for the rest of the night. 

**

* * *

**

Legolas stood over the slumbering form of the Slayer. He watched her with muted concentration, noting the way her eyebrows furrowed and the soft moan that came from her open mouth. Was she in pain? Legolas leaned over her, casting a dark shadow across her face. He watched her breathe in deeply and the soft fluttering of her eyelashes as her eyes moved beneath her lids. He slowly let his hand rest on her forehead, checking her body's temperature.

Buffy's eyes popped open. "Cold hands!"

Legolas withdrew his hand immediately and stood up straight. "I am sorry," he whispered.

Buffy turned over on her sleeping mat to look at him. "It's okay." She covered her mouth as she yawned. "Is it time to go?"

Legolas shook his head. "It is still night."

"That's good," Buffy muttered drowsily. She was about to go back to sleep when she noticed that Legolas was still standing there, looking down at her expectantly. "Do you want to talk?"

Legolas looked surprised. "About what?"

Buffy shrugged. "Whatever's bugging you?"

Legolas was about to deny that anything was troubling him when he stopped. She eyed him with a smile. He knew that he wouldn't be able to fool her. "It is....the palantir is evil."

Buffy stared at her blanket with a trace amount of guilt. "I shouldn't have looked into it."

"You could not have known," he assured her. "Most mortals here have never heard the stories of the palantirs. But it calls to something..." he trailed off as his eyesight wandered to the opening in the tent. The wind moaned through the trees, snapping off old branches of the trees like a scythe. He shook his head. "You should get some rest."

"Legolas," Buffy started with a sigh. "Drop the act. I'm not a little kid who's going to get nightmares from this stuff."

Legolas sat down and folded his arms around his knees. "You would not understand."

"Ummm, yeah." She slapped her hands on top of the blanket. "What part of my life am I supposed to understand?" Legolas watched her as she continued. "Lets see, what's my career? Oh yeah, I kill demons," she said with a dramatic shrug. "I used to date a vampire, my best friend is a witch, and her ex-boyfriend was a werewolf. Oh, and my sister did not technically exist until a few years ago." Legolas threw her the most confused glance to date. "I get sucked into weird portals and so far I've met some giant spiders, funky-looking wolf thingees, Orcs, and guys with pointy ears who have some serious, SERIOUS, family issues." She gave him a resigned stare. "Let me know when I'm supposed to understand."

The left corner of Legolas' mouth lifted up into a grin. "You have made your point."

"So? Come on, spill the goods. Whatever it is, five bucks says I can kill it with something pointy."

A dark frown replaced his grin. "No, you cannot. Nothing can kill them." His eyes clouded.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Enough with the dramatic pauses. Continue," she ordered.

Legolas muttered an apology. "I shall start at the beginning. The palantiri are called 'Seeing-stones'. They can show things that have not yet happened, but the views they show can be controlled by someone or something with a strong will. Two can be used to communicate. The palantiri are coveted in Middle Earth. Some have been used to control all those that look into them."

Buffy's eyes widened.

"The palantiri were lost. Not all have been recovered. We suspect the whereabouts, but we know not for certain where some are. Some have said that the Enemy has one."

"The 'Enemy'?" Buffy repeated.

Legolas nodded. "In a great battle, he was vanquished. But now some say he has returned." Legolas stared down at his hands. "Our wood used to be called Greenwood the Great. That was before Dol Goldur fell upon us."

The name reverberated within Buffy. She touched her chest. "What is that?"

"Sauron, The Enemy. He populated the forest with Orcs and spiders and..." he swallowed. "Nazgul."

Buffy's heart pounded in her chest. "What are they?"

"The undead. No one can kill them, not even you. Nothing can," he said with a defeated sigh. "They launch attacks on us, on the kingdom, my people. We have managed to drive them back but not without losses." His head dropped a fraction lower.

Buffy laid a hand on his shoulder. "Who?"

"Angmar. My brother. He was felled by the black breath of the Nazgul. He never awoke."

Buffy removed her hand. "I'm sorry, Legolas. I didn't know."

Legolas gave her a startled glance. "But you did. You said his name."

"I don't know how."

Legolas watched her solemnly. "And that is what troubles me. The palantir spoke to you. It told you something you could not have known otherwise. What else it has whispered to you, we do not know. We may not know until it is too late."

Buffy straightened. "Now you're starting to scare me. Maybe go back to using subtleties again."

"I do not mean to frighten you, but-"

An Elvish yell cut him off. Legolas jumped to his feet, followed by a slower Buffy. Return yells and urgent commands filled the campsite. Legolas was already pulling off his bow when he turned to Buffy. He took a measured glance at the sword in her hand. 

"Speak of the devil?" She asked.

"You could say that." He was about to run out when Buffy stopped him with a strong grip on his arm. He turned quickly to question her when he found himself locked in a kiss.

Buffy kissed him hard, then abruptly pushed him away. He cocked his head at her with a puzzled half-grin, half-frown. "That was just because," she answered with a shrug. She handed him his 'borrowed' knife back. "But this is for luck."


	13. Strangers Like You

__

I have to catch up on a few questions that I previously missed. "Sea of Waking Dreams" was actually borrowed from a Sarah McLaughlin song, but I'm sure she probably borrowed it from that poem. Good eye!

Angmar...well, that was a supreme screw-up on my part. He was supposed to have another name but I must have had a brain fart when I was typing that day.

And finally...**72°?!?!** I shake my fist angrily in your general direction!

STRANGERS LIKE YOU

The forest seemed to bulge outwards; the tension became palpable. The wind gusted through the trees, picking up branches, leaves, and plumes of snow. Buffy could hear the thunder of hooves approaching like a train barrelling uncontrollably towards them. Their own horses shimmied against each other and cried wildly. 

Buffy took a quick glance at her comrades who stood patiently with their bows taut and arrows at the ready. But behind their unwavering stances she saw, for the first time, something behind their steely gazes. Fear. Only the smallest hint, and only on some, but it was there. Eliathas' stare burned with determination and even a trace of hatred; Legolas likewise. Linnethuil's calm gaze mimicked Gandalf's, but even the wizard didn't seem as assured as he normally did. Aragorn shifted his weight from one foot to the other; Buffy wondered if the anxiety of their attack was killing him. She, never having faced one of these...zombie-guys before spun her long blade around in quick successions. "Lets just get this over with," she whispered.

She felt Legolas' eyes watching her. She looked at him and threw him a reassuring smile. Despite her warm glance, his face retained its anxious frown. The smile faded slowly from Buffy's face. 

"Right," she muttered, turning back to face the approaching onslaught with the same seriousness as everyone else. "Smiling to take place after the fight, not before." Her head turned up at the sound of distant whistles in the trees. In the small amount of time it had taken everyone in the campsite to assemble, some Elves had already scaled the trees and were signalling the approach to those on the ground. She glanced at Eliathas. He yelled something in Elvish, and two lines of Elves gathered in front of them, Legolas and Linnethuil among them. The first line knelt with their bows angled upwards, the second line stood behind them and aimed straight ahead. Buffy felt left out.

Eliathas held his sword outwards with one hand. Gandalf stood with sword in one hand and staff in the other. Aragorn placed himself in the back line of archers alongside Legolas. Buffy stood beside Gandalf with her sword clasped between two hands, her body in an attack stance. 

A blackness exploded from the trees in front of her amid raining arrows from the Elves hidden in the tree boughs. It took Buffy a moment to realize that they were horses with black-cloaked riders, not merely shadows. The black horses made terrible groans as they were spurred on brutally by their masters. Eliathas bellowed a command and the first line of kneeling Elves let loose with their arrows. The arrows made graceful arcs in the air and showered down with deadly intent on the horsemen, but to Buffy's amazement, they seemed to have no effect. The horses came thundering on. 

The riders reached simultaneously to their left sides and withdrew long blades. Eliathas cried out again and was in the movement of bringing his sword down to signal the next firing when a piercing scream startled him. The scream grew in volume. Buffy winced. More screams joined the first, and an entire chorus of unearthly howls threatened to shatter her eardrums. She wavered on her feet.

The Elves in front of her seemed disoriented. Some fired, others stood paralyzed. She did not remember calling Legolas' name, nor did she recall dropping her sword to cover her ears. But she did recall Legolas grabbing onto her elbows and mouthing something that suspiciously looked like "RUN!"

"WHAT?" She yelled back. Legolas looked flustered and took a moment to glance behind him, just in time to see a blade swinging towards his face. He staggered backwards rather ungracefully but effectively enough; the blade swished against the air but missed its intended mark. 

Shaken out of her stupor, Buffy picked up her sword and scanned the scene for her first victim. But the battle placed a tremor of despair in her; the Elves seemed to have lost their organization. The Nazgul rode without purpose, or what purpose she could tell, just to scatter the Elves and break their ranks. It worked. Though they struggled to reform their lines, the horses threatened to trample them if they stood in one spot long enough. Eliathas called for all to abandon their bows and switch to knives or daggers. 

A dagger went spiralling over Buffy's head and notched itself into a Nazgul's chest. The creature screamed and Buffy squinted against the deafening noise. The same Nazgul's horse was hit with an arrow in its flanks. The horse reared and whinnied; the Nazgul on top of it could not regain control. The horse and rider barrelled back where it came from, abandoning its allies. 

Belatedly, it occurred to Buffy that there were only four of them. How could only four riders, armed with only swords and a really annoying cry be devastating to Elvish warriors?

Her answer came sooner and more graphically then she would have preferred. An Elf clutched his ears and fell to his knees, dropping his long dagger uselessly into the snow. Dimly, she heard Eliathas screaming frantically in the distance. The Elf looked up slowly and with sudden knowledge in his eyes, a Nazgul sword sliced down across his neck.

Buffy's eyes widened in silent alarm. Legolas stood frozen. The Nazgul wailed in triumph. To everyone's surprise, a new sound joined the black scream of the Nazgul; a bellowing war cry of a human woman. Buffy screamed wordlessly at them in a mixture of anger, shock, and frustration. The Nazgul reared his horse and pointed his sword daringly in her direction. Her eyes narrowed as she readied herself. 

Time slowed to the rhythmic beat of the horse's galloping step towards her. Her own breathing deepened as she centred herself into a calm state. She saw the blade pointed at her heart, she heard the muffled cry of Legolas, but she ignored it all. As the horse's head passed hers and the blade was a slice away from gouging her heart, she spun backwards and pivoted until the horse and the blade completely passed her. Then she flung her sword at the Nazgul's back.

It was driven through the creature's back until the steel tip was a noticeable point in the front of the Nazgul's cloak. The creature let go of the reins, its arms outstretched and its body angling backwards over the saddle as it threatened to fall off at any moment. The horse, without the reins holding it back, took control of its own course and abandoned the battle.

She watched it go with a detached sense of reality. She felt unsteady on her feet, almost nauseous. She turned back to see Legolas and three other Elves darting around a massive black horse, distracting the creature while Linnthuil tried to get a clear shot at the Nazgul's face with his arrow. Her vision blurred. She blinked impatiently. She then knew perhaps what a portion of the problem may be; she could no longer hear.

As if realizing this too, Legolas looked up and his mouth opened at her. She blinked in response, but also found that she couldn't move her legs. He began to run towards her, ignoring the battling Elves behind him. He was motioning at her with his hand furiously. Mustering every ounce of strength she had, she twisted her torso to look behind her. Two feet away towered a black rider, with a faceless hood turned towards her. She saw the blade in its outstretched arm and watched it fly towards her with resigned confusion. 

Without warning, she was knocked off her feet and onto her stomach with something lying on top of her, nearly smothering her. But whatever it was, it felt warm and she felt very tired and more than a little ill. A nap at that exact moment seemed the best course of action to take, so she took it and knew no more.

***

Of course, it didn't last for very long.

"Can I get up now?" Was what she asked, but from under the body on top of her it sounded more like "Mmmmfgumph?"

The body twitched, then very slowly lifted up off of her. She blinked away the dizziness and breathed in deeply, thankful to the cold air for the first time for its refreshing powers. She forced her eyes to focus and after a few squinting sessions, she finally made out the concerned stare of the person sitting directly in front of her to be that of Legolas'. 

"You are well." It was a statement, and almost as though he was saying to reassure himself more than her.

Buffy pushed the stray hair out of her eyes. "I think," she responded. She rubbed the base of her skull where her headache pounded ferociously. "What was that?"

"The cry of the Nazgul," Legolas said.

Buffy looked doubtful. "Sounded more like nails on a chalkboard to me."

Legolas blinked, but went on. "The shrieks can paralyze, even kill. You are lucky that you were not exposed for long."

Buffy gave him a small smile. "I guess I have you to thank for that."

Legolas looked downwards, somewhat bashfully.

Buffy looked around. "So where'd they go?" Elves were picking up discarded arrows and knives, moving methodically and somewhat wearily. There was no trace of the Nazgul.

Legolas shrugged and winced sharply. It did not go unnoticed by Buffy. Blood trickled from his bicep and splattered onto the snow. "Are you okay?" 

Legolas began to nod but it sort of morphed into a shake of the head. He stopped, realizing how silly he must look. "I will be fine," he said with shaky smile.

Buffy watched him carefully. "You sure? You don't look okay." And it was true; the Elf looked pale, paler than he usually did if that was even possible. Buffy sighed and rubbed her neck again. "What a fine pair of warriors we make."

"At least you lived."

Buffy and Legolas looked up to see Eliathas standing over them, with a mixture of anguish and fury in his eyes. 

"Brother, how many were lost?"

"Fimvarrien is gone. Three others lie in a stupor that we cannot rouse them from. Gandalf looks over them." Eliathas glanced at the sight where the guard had lost his life, the snow painted in bright red.

"Linnethuil and Aragorn?" Legolas asked urgently.

Eliathas sighed and looked back down at the two. "They are well." He looked at Buffy. 

Buffy held his stern gaze, wondering what snarky lecture she would receive now. Maybe she hadn't curtsied politely as she took out the Nazgul or maybe-

"And you, maiden. Are you well?"

The question took her completely off guard. Her mouth opened and hung suspended while she stuttered for the right words. "Ummm…" she looked at him blankly. "Yeah," she finally answered.

He nodded once and stalked off towards the tent where Gandalf was caring for the three in a coma.

Buffy and Legolas both shared the same bewildered glance. "That was weird," Buffy remarked.

Legolas shook his head. "You have no idea."

They both rose to their feet, Buffy clutching her head as the movement made the blood pound in her skull, Legolas favouring his left arm and breathing carefully. Aragorn stepped into their path making them both stop abruptly.

Buffy's nose wrinkled as she studied Aragorn. "What's up with your face?"

The Ranger had an unsightly large bruise covering the majority of his right cheek along with a rapidly swelling eye that was just about closed and a gash above his eyebrow. "Horse," he answered shortly.

"Nazgul?" Legolas asked.

"No." Aragorn kicked a rock by his foot. "My own." He looked Buffy and Legolas up and down. "You two do not look much better."

Buffy shrugged as she began to walk past him. "At least I can see out of both eyes."

Aragorn narrowed his good eye at her. He glanced at Legolas who was trying to hide a smirk as he passed the Ranger. Aragorn growled a Sindarin swear under his breath at the traitorous Elf which only made Legolas' smirk grow into a full-out smile.

***

The sombre Elven company rode through the soft snow without discussion. The comatose three rode in front of supporting Elves who held them tightly across the middle. They looked awake, but Buffy knew by their half-lidded glazed expressions and shallow breath that they were far from the waking world. One horse carried a traverse behind it upon which the body of Fimvarrien was wrapped in a white shroud.

Buffy felt nauseous. The pounding in her head had intensified twofold since the battle; she found that merely staying awake was becoming a tumultuous struggle and one that she was rapidly losing. The cold did not help; she shivered and the movement jostled her head, making the headache even worse. As bad as she felt, she glanced across at Legolas and knew that something was not right with the Elf either.

She had seen him cradling his left arm before, but now he was positively hunched over on his horse. She watched him take quick breaths that seemed to tax his strength; his eyelids fluttered close then snapped open as if he was fighting sleep.

A wave of dizziness passed over her; she shouldn't have turned her head to look at him. Feeling that she couldn't fight it any longer, Buffy leaned over the side of her horse and vomited.

The weary company stopped at the sound of her retching. Eliathas looked at the ground beneath her horse with some measure of disgust. He caught Gandalf watching him closely and removed the look and replaced with an unreadable composure. Then he summoned Linnethuil to his side.

Gandalf watched the two sons of Thranduil as they conferred with each other in urgent whispers. Linnethuil glanced back at Buffy, who looked just about finished in her endeavour to rid her stomach of all its contents, then nodded at Eliathas. Eliathas turned around and held a single hand in the air, a signal to the rest to follow immediately. Linnethuil trotted back to where Gandalf and Aragorn were lingering beside Legolas and Buffy. 

"Perhaps we should give them a rest," suggested Gandalf.

"Eliathas feels it best if you were to follow the river."

Gandalf and Aragorn looked up sharply; Legolas struggled to lift his head and only managed a half-hearted stare at his brother. They remained speechless.

Linnethuil glanced sadly at Buffy and Legolas. "A drink from the river may help them to recover."

Gandalf and Aragorn looked to each other but still said nothing. Linnethuil continued. "Gandalf, we would request that you stay with us. For the three injured." Linnethuil looked at Aragorn. "Perhaps you might stay with them, son of Elrond."

Aragorn nodded quickly. "Of course."

Linnethuil nodded, satisfied. "Good. Then it is settled."

"I do not wish to sleep."

Everyone stared at Legolas, even Buffy who looked like she was about to pass out. Legolas kept his eyes downcast, whether because he could not raise them or because he felt ashamed, none could say. 

"I think you should," Linnethuil answered simply.

Legolas probably would have argued the point to death had he been up to his usual strength. Under the circumstances however, he sufficed for a mumbled protest and slumped even further over his horse's shoulders.

Linnethuil watched him with a resigned frown. "Watch over him," he instructed Aragorn without looking up at him. "Return to us as soon as possible." He turned his horse around and sped up to catch the rest. 

"We are not leaving you, are we?" Elrohir and Elladan sat unnoticed behind the four. Aragorn turned around in his saddle and squinted at them with his one good eye.

"We are not commenting on your abilities of course," Elrohir started, "but merely that, well, considering the physical states of all involved..."

"Yes you may stay," Aragorn agreed with a sigh.

Elrohir and Elladan glanced at each other with satisfied grins. "Good," Elladan said. "It will just be like an old hunting trip. Except that we are not hunting and some of us are deathly ill."

"Your powers of observation are as astute as always, Master Elf," Gandalf grumbled severely. "But now I must leave you." He turned, then motioned to Aragorn with a nudge of his chin. 

Aragorn drew his horse in closer. Gandalf reached into his side satchel as he whispered in Aragorn's ear. "As soon as she is well enough," he withdrew a bundle of cloth and stuffed it into Aragorn's pack, "see to it that she returns to her home. Her sickness will only grow while she remains."

Aragorn threw a troubled glance behind him where Elrohir and Elladan were watching the sickly two with a mixture of wonder and confusion. "How do you know?"

Gandalf's eyes met his with sincere sadness. "I do not. But it is best for all involved." 


	14. The Way Home

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Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry for not having this up sooner. But the semester is over and the chapters will be longer and we're just about at the end!

****

The Way Home

Xander Harris did not have a high pain tolerance. But considering that there was no one else in the Summer living room to listen to him moan, other than Anya but she was sprawled on the couch and snoring loudly, he was dealing with his bruised eyebrow as nobly as he could. He had been holding an ice pack over his swollen eye for over half an hour and muttering quietly to himself about the state of the world he lived in when vampires decided to go Donkey Kong on his ass and throw garbage cans at his head instead of just trying to rip his heart out.

The front door opened and Xander lifted the ice pack for a brief moment to see Tara and Willow stagger in. Anya snorted once, rolled over and blinked at the two, then went promptly back to her snore-fest. Willow was pinching the bridge of her nose, attempting to stifle the trickling blood brought on by a demon's fist. Black lines were beginning to appear under her eyes, making the dark rims of her sleep-deprived eyes that much more apparent.

Tara glanced at Anya, who was taking up all the space on the couch, and decided silently that it wasn't worth the effort to tell her to shove over. Instead, she slouched on the arm of the couch and sighed at Xander.

Xander was grinning at her.

"What?" Tara asked, somewhat self-consciously.

"You ah..." Xander gave a flicky-motion to her hair. "You have...something in your hair."

Tara's nose wrinkled in disgust as she began to comb through her matted hair. Finally she found it; a nest of her own hair and something squishy. She tried running her fingers through it, but found it wouldn't budge. She clawed at it, then finally began to scoop it out. Xander and Willow both watched her with morbid fascination. The mound of green sludge – probably demon guts – was wrested free, and she let it drip from her fingers and onto the floor, hitting the hardwood with a distinct slurp.

Tara stared disgustedly at her fingers, now coated in the slimy goo. "That's it. I'm done with patrolling." She got up and headed for the washroom, shaking her head. "I don't know how Buffy does this crap."

Dawn came out of the kitchen carrying a tray laden with tea and cookies, being extra careful not to jiggle it. She gave a brief look at Tara walking past her and entered the living room, taking in the worn out Scoobies before her. "How'd it go?" She asked tentatively.

There was a collective "Mmmnnnn" from everyone in the room. But Dawn supposed that just by their presence, with all limbs relatively intact, that the evening would have to be classified as a success. She placed the tray on the coffee table and held up the plate of chocolate chip cookies. "Cookie?"

Anya was up in an instant, and the other two suddenly came alive as three hands grabbed at the plate. In a few minutes, only crumbs were left on the plate and the three were chewing with mechanical unawareness. Dawn sat on the arm of Xander's chair and looked expectantly at the three.

"I made them myself," she announced.

Willow hummed and gave a slight nod that Dawn supposed meant that they were edible. Xander gave a thoughtful glance to the remaining bite of cookie he held in his hand. "Mmmfff-good," he replied. Dawn smiled half-heartedly at his compliment.

"This sucks," Anya said.

The three stared at her. "Anya!" Exclaimed Xander. "How about having some tact? You don't say it to the cook's face!"

Strangely, his reprimand didn't make Dawn feel any better.

Anya stared back at Xander. "I didn't mean the cookies." She looked up at Dawn. "The cookies are great. Did you put oatmeal in them?"

"Coconut."

"It's nice. Added a real flair. What I'm talking about is getting our asses kicked by demons and vampires on a nightly basis. It sucks."

Willow nodded in agreement. "I concur."

Tara walked back into the living room, her hair still a mess despite her repeated attempts to comb through it. "What's going on?"

"We were just surmising what a crappy situation it is doing the Slayer's job but without being certifiable Slayers ourselves," Xander informed. "And we've officially confirmed that it sucks."

Tara sighed. "I'd have to agree. I'm not really cut out for this sort of thing."

Willow chewed on her lip with a hopeless raise of her eyebrows. "I wonder if Giles and Spike are having any luck."

"Even if they are, I wonder if Buffy is still alive."

Everyone in the room stared at Anya. Again. But she went on, oblivious to their astonished expressions. "I mean, you should see the kinds of things they have in that dimension. They've got spiders the size of humans."

Dawn shuddered and covered her face while Xander urged Anya to shut up.

"What? I'm just saying, that it would take a miracle for her to survive spiders and orcs and trolls and evil sorcerers, especially considering she's this tiny chick that nobody's going to trust because she just 'poof', showed up one day."

Dawn abruptly stood up and headed to the kitchen. Xander gave Anya his most exasperated look. Anya shrunk back into the couch with her arms crossed in front of her. "Buffy would appreciate the honesty," she muttered.

Willow followed Dawn into the kitchen. Dawn turned on the tap and began to load dirty dishes into the kitchen sink, keeping her back to Willow. Willow placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"She's fine, Dawn. She's Buffy."

Dawn nodded hesitantly, but didn't turn around.

"Hey," Willow continued. "You don't get the title of 'Vampire Slayer' just because you can hold a stake and say witty things at inappropriate moments. I mean, if that were true anybody could be a Slayer. Even Anya."

Dawn gave a snort of laughter. Willow threw her arm around the girl's shoulder. "Come on. There's a chocolate chip cookie with your name on it."

"No there isn't," Dawn shook her head sadly. "You guys ate them all."

"Oh." Willow stared at her feet for a minute before going over to the pantry. She pulled out a box of Ritz crackers. "But I bet there's a cracker with your name on it," she said with an encouraging smile.

Dawn flashed a brief and completely fake grin. Willow took it to mean a good thing and nodded once, heading back into the living room with an accomplished smile on her face. Dawn turned back around and dipped her hands into the warm soapy water. She stared out the window at the midnight blue sky.

"Please come home," she pleaded.

The troupe consisting of Elladan, Elrohir, Aragorn, Legolas, and Buffy came to a halt. Buffy, feeling the need to stretch her legs after riding for more than a few hours, began to slide off the saddle. Had she the strength in her legs to support her, the feat would have been accomplished smoothly. As it was, she fell off the horse and landed in a limp heap.

Aragorn swore as he leaped off his horse to help Buffy to her feet. Her knees buckled beneath her, and the Ranger soon found himself supporting all of her weight. "I meant to do that," Buffy grumbled.

"Very effective way of getting off a horse," Aragorn replied.

Legolas was slowly lifting himself off his own stead. Aragorn watched him carfefully; the usual Elvin grace had disappeared, now the Prince that stood before him wobbled slightly and had a bewildered look in his wide eyes.

"Is this it?" Elladan asked loudly.

Aragorn looked at him. "What were you expecting?"

Elladan shrugged and hopped off his horse. "Something a little more grand, I suppose. Some colour would be nice."

Elrohir furrowed his eyebrows at the remark. "It is winter."

Elladan squinted back at his brother. "I can see that."

"Stop it," Aragorn commanded. He walked slowly, holding Buffy up by her elbows with both his arms. He stopped at a line of trees, and Buffy suddenly realised that the seemingly endless forest in front of her was an illusion. Not two feet in front of her was a steep cliff, leading down to a fast moving river, beginning to ice over with the chill. Neither side of forest above the river was higher or lower, creating a perfect line of trees and ground; should anyone be riding full throttle towards it, they would not even notice the presence of a river until it was too late.

"How did you know it was here?" Buffy asked.

Aragorn studied the swift current of the river below him, where barges of floating ice knocked into each other, cracking and grinding like small car crashes. "I have been here before."

"The easiest way to get in and out of the castle," Legolas said quietly.

Buffy glanced at him. The Elf avoided her scrutiny. "Or so I have heard," he finished.

"Elladan, Elrohir," the two dark-haired Elves perked up when Aragorn spoke to them. "Start setting up a camp."

Buffy's muddled brain was giving her a headache. "Why here?"

Aragorn smiled warmly down at her. "Because here is where you will begin to recover."

Buffy's legs dangled over the edge of the sheer cliff she sat on, shivering and huddled in a blanket while she watched the mesmerising flow of the river beneath her. After offering to help set up the canvas tents, and being loudly refused, she retreated to the edge of the river. Legolas had persisted in helping, but he mostly just stood around with a vacant look in his eyes. Finally, the Elf admitted to himself that his idea of helping was fairly futile; he now stood silently behind Buffy.

"Are you always so talkative?" Buffy asked without turning around. She had come to recognise Legolas' presence, even though he had not made a sound as he approached.

He smiled down at her. "No. This is a stretch for me."

Buffy looked up at him. "I'll say." She tapped the ground beside her. "Have a seat," she offered.

He looked uncertainly at the ground; Elves, for some odd reason, preferred to stand rather than sit on the bare ground. She persisted in her tapping and he consented. He sat awkwardly with his legs crossed and his back rigid.

"So," Buffy started.

"So." Legolas finished.

"This has been one hell of a trip."

Legolas looked at her. "I am sorry," he said quietly.

Buffy shrugged. "It's not your fault. It's been interesting anyway." She looked at him with small grin at the corner of her mouth. "It hasn't all been bad."

Legolas smiled back. "No, it hasn't." An extended moment of silence passed between them while they studied each others' eyes. Legolas turned back to the river. "You will be happy to return to your home?"

Buffy looked down. "I miss my friends," she admitted. "And as far as vacations go, this hasn't really been one. But," she looked up at him again. "I think I'll miss some friends here too."

Legolas' forehead creased as he considered his next question. "Why have you not married?"

Buffy nearly choked. "What? Why would I...I mean, you don't think that I'm...why are you asking me this?"

Legolas shook his head. "Most women your age are married by now. I wonder why you have not."

"My age?" Buffy repeated with awe. "I'm not that old, you know. And where I come from it's not really based on age so much as it is based on..." she waved her hands around as she searched for the words. "Love. You know, finding the right person."

Legolas nodded. Then he turned to her again. "Have you?"

Buffy's mouth opened and closed. She began to blush. "I'll tell you later."

Footsteps crunching in the snow alerted them to Aragorn's approach. The both turned around to look at him.

"It is time."

"The sickness inflicted by the Nazgul scream is called the Black Breath," Aragorn explained steadily as he stirred a pot filled with boiling water. He sprinkled in dried herbs that he crushed between his hands. A hypnotically enticing odour travelled its way to Buffy's nostrils. "Athelas is a common cure, but it takes time to fully recover."

"We don't have time," Legolas pointed out impatiently. "The kingdom could be under attack as we sit."

Aragorn raised his eyebrows towards Legolas. "Which is specifically why," he swirled the pot with a wooden spoon, "we have used the water from the river."

Legolas seemed satisfied with the answer, as did the Rivendell brothers who hummed appreciatively. Buffy was the only one lost. "Huh?"

"It is not called the Enchanted River for nothing," Aragorn said.

Buffy glanced at the faces around her who nodded with Aragorn. "THAT'S what an enchanted river looks like?"

She didn't miss the offended frowns that were thrown in her direction, but she continued anyway. "I thought they were supposed to be...well, enchanted. With fanciful creatures that come out of a C.S. Lewis book or something." The frowns turned to puzzled looks. "You know, unicorns and...dancing leprechauns. Okay, I never actually read the book, but still...." She took in their restless faces. "You do have leprechauns don't you? What, gigantic spiders but no leprechauns?" They remained silent. "Guess it's only Ireland," she muttered quietly.

Aragorn began spooning out the broth into wooden cups. "It will not taste the best, but it is effective. In a matter of hours you will be cured."

Buffy stared uncertainly into her cup. "Is that a guarantee?"

"Drink," Aragorn commanded.

Buffy and Legolas raised their cups to one another. "Cheers," Buffy saluted. She downed the hot liquid in a few gulps. She coughed once and grimaced at the empty cup. "Well, it's not bad. It could use-" Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and the cup fell from her limp fingers. Elladan caught her before she landed. He half carried, half dragged the unconscious Slayer onto her bed of linen mats, attempting to arrange her comfortably. He pulled the blanket snugly around beneath her chin and patted her on the cheek.

"Sweet dreams, young warrior."

Across the tent, Aragorn was manhandling Legolas onto his sleeping mat, but the stubborn Elf was trying to fight the drowsy effect of the broth. As it was, Legolas' eyes were half-lidded and his movements intoxicated. Finally, the Elf slumped over and Aragorn was able to roll him onto the mat. He didn't bother covering him up as Elladan had done for Buffy.

"He doesn't feel the cold anyway," Aragorn reasoned to his brothers.

Dawn sat on the window ledge in her sister's old room, mindlessly petting the worn-out pig Buffy Summers lovingly named "Mr. Gordo". Dawn never could figure out who Gordo was named for but she supposed that for a pig, it was oddly appropriate.

Willow entered soundlessly and watched the girl as she stared upwards into the darkened Sunnydale sky. "How do the stars look?" She asked.

Startled, Dawn gave a slight lurch and nearly fell off the ledge. Catching her balance with one hand on the ledge, Dawn looked at Willow and shook her head. "There's too many lights in the city. You can't see any stars."

Willow realized Dawn was right and felt bad for interrupting her. A thought struck her, and she smiled hopefully at Dawn. "Hey, I hear there's a meteor shower this weekend. Maybe we could drive out of Sunnydale and go watch it somewhere. With any luck, a meteor might even hit close to home."

Dawn squinted at Willow. "Was that supposed to be comforting?"

Willow cocked her head. "It sounded more comforting in my mind," she admitted. "But it might be better than here. You know, get your mind off things."

Dawn resolutely shook her head. "I want to stay." She turned back to the window. "Just in case."

Willow took it as her cue to leave, and she obliged by tip-toeing out and quietly shutting the door.

Dawn heard the door latch and sighed. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the Scoobies' company. But at times, with everything that had happened, it was overwhelming. Buffy would have made sense of it, she would know the right things to say to make everyone feel as though they were needed, but then she would know the subtle things to say to make them go home too. Dawn didn't have that sensibility.

She now knew that she missed her sister's guidance most of all. Buffy could be a take-charge general one moment, and then a fashion adviser the next. She could order Dawn to clean her room and study, but still treat her like an equal. With her mother gone and the truth of her own origin revealed, Dawn felt lost, sometimes trapped in the never-ending chaotic swirl that seemed to follow her. But knowing Buffy was right around the corner, she always carried a sense of security.

Now, despite the presence of her friends and protectors downstairs, she never felt more alone. For the first time in a long time, she faced the prospect of once again going through life without any family. She would survive, this she knew by instinct. Without Buffy though, she knew she would always be looking over her shoulder in anticipation of her sister's return or in fear over what would inevitably come after her. She supposed that she never told Buffy enough how convenient it was to have a Slayer as her older sister. She wondered if Buffy knew.

Then she thought of Legolas and the thought occurred to her that maybe Buffy wouldn't care.

Giles heard the pounding, but for a few moments thought it was in his dream. Blearily, he opened one eye and squinted at the neon symbols on his digital clock. 3:04 a.m. He shut his eye and tried to block out the noise by wrapping the pillow over his exposed ear. Incessantly, it continued and with more urgency behind it. Giles groaned and rolled over, reaching blindly for his glasses on the nightstand and swearing when his fingertips grazed them, causing them to fall off their perch and land beside the bed.

"For God's sake, give it a rest!" Giles yelled as he stumbled his way to the door.

He swung it open and with great annoyance found Spike smirking on the other side and holding a brown grocery bag.

"Sorry 'bout that," the vampire apologised but with a prevalent grin. "Forgot my key," he explained.

He sauntered in past Giles and began flicking on every light in the hotel room. Giles stared after him, struggling to contain his mounting rage. "Where the bloody hell have you been?" Giles demanded.

Spike shrugged as he flopped on the couch and dug around in his bag. "Went for a snack. Blood bank is down the street."

Giles grimaced. "Sorry I asked," he mumbled as he rubbed his weary eyes.

Spike held up a box. "Brought back some wheaties though."

"Thrilling," Giles replied sardonically.

The door began to pound again. Giles whipped around furiously. "Doesn't anyone in this city sleep anymore?!" He shouted as he stormed over to the door. "What is it?" He asked impatiently as he flung the door open.

"Now now, old friend," William replied. "That's hardly the way to greet an old mate."

"William," Giles said with surprise. He held the door open widely so his wheelchair-bound friend could roll through. "Did you find the spell?" Giles asked hurriedly.

"Naturally," William sighed. "You are dealing with a warlock, you know."

"Former." Giles corrected.

William turned sharply and smiled slyly at Giles. "Right." He stopped abruptly as he took notice of Spike. "And who might this be?"

Spike's jaw dropped and hung in empty space. Giles took a step between the two. "Billy. A, ah, student of mine."

William blinked a few times, eyeing Giles and Spike each in turn. "And what exactly do you teach him?"

"Philosophy." Spike deadpanned.

William turned a grin to Giles. "Rupert. I never knew you fancied dead Greek men."

Giles tried to hide his horror with a smile. "Yes, well. One can never get enough of...dead Greek men. Lets get on with it, shall we?"

William nodded and immediately dove into his breast pocket, fishing out a folded peace of parchment. He unfolded it carefully and held it delicately between his two hands. "An original piece of the scroll uncovered near Chatres in France. Don't ask how I got my hands on it."

Giles shook his head as he examined the scroll over William's shoulder. "I wouldn't think of it. Did this come with the palantir?"

William hummed deeply as he nodded. "Along with a few other artefacts. You will, however, be most interested in this little bit."

Giles leaned over William's shoulder and squinted at the small area of writing that William pointed to. "I can't decipher it. What language is it in?"

"Elvish," William confirmed. "Sindarin, to be exact."

"Do you know what it says?"

"Well, yes." He folded up the parchment again and placed it back in his coat pocket. "For a price."

Giles straightened. He had been expecting this. Ever since he had seen William in his home, confined to a wheelchair care of the Council, ever since he had mentioned the palantir and saw the eagerness in William's eye; he had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"William..."Giles started but was cut off by William's upturned hand.

"I promise you that I will get her back," William said. "But I only want possession of the palantir in return."

Giles began shaking his head. "It's too dangerous. You cannot control it."

William laughed. "And you think you can? Come off it old chap. You're not so limber yourself either. It's a small price, Rupert. I promise you will never see the likes of me again."

Giles turned away and stood stubbornly with his hands on his hips, shaking his head back and forth.

"Besides. What choice do you have?"

It was the clincher, and Giles knew it. He didn't have a choice. Much as he hated to admit it, Giles was helpless without William's help, no matter how selfish the reason for the help. "Fine," he assented quietly.

William clapped his hands together. "Splendid. When do we leave?"

Giles and Spike both made intelligible noises of refute.

William looked startled. "Well the spell can only be performed where she was last seen. That's most likely where the portal is naturally occurring. An accidental tunnel between two realms, if you like."

Spike stood up and pointed down at William. "We are not taking this guy back to Sunnydale." Then he looked apologetically at William. "No offense, mate."

William held his hands up in the air to downplay Spike's outburst.

"Yes, we are taking him back to Sunnydale," Giles said evenly. "It's the only way to get her back."

The sounds of music and singing, boisterous laughter and the wafting smell of roasting meat over open flame bade Legolas down the stairs in his father's cavern and into the great hall. It seemed that the entire forest was contained in this one large domed room. Legolas nodded at some he readily recognized, who smiled in return. Several maidens passed him with alluring smiles and demure eyes. He smiled graciously, but continued on his path to the long rectangular table reserved for the royal family. A counsel of his father's clapped him on the back and whispered a joke in his ear. Legolas laughed, but could not quite discern what the point of the joke was. He shook the counsel's hand and pressed onwards. As he halted in front of the table, he surveyed the family members gathered before him, but his heart jumped when he came to the last three. He felt cold, which was odd enough, and even more so, he felt the blood drain from his face and his smile wash away.

His mother, Eredben, and Angmar all sat before him. Three who had already passed into the next realm. "But you are..." His whisper faltered.

His mother motioned to the empty chair beside her with an elegant hand. "Sit, my son. You are weary."

Legolas thought for a moment and knew she was right. He felt incredibly tired, sluggish even, though for the life of him he could not think why. He nodded slowly and drifted around to the other side of the table. His father saluted him with his chalice of wine as he passed.

_'Odd,'_ he thought. He shook his head and took the seat offered. He stared at his mother for a moment, who caught his gaze and smiled uncertainly back.

"What is it, Legolas?"

Legolas shook his head and smiled. "I am marvelling at your radiance. Quit disrupting me."

The comment took his mother by surprise. She jerked her head back and eyed him suspiciously. Then she joined him in his infectious grin and laughed. "Obviously exhaustion has done something to your mind. You are not yourself."

Legolas shook his head in agreement. "That much is certain," he mumbled. He studied the swarm of people gathered before him, blinking as a strange blurring marred his vision. He rubbed his eyes. He took quick glances at the hall in front of him, then leaned forward to peer down the long table. His family was conversing amongst themselves, taking little notice of his actions. He craned his neck to see over the multitudes of heads bobbing about as they laughed with each other, but had little success.

A tall figure stepped in front of his view. Eliathas. "Looking for someone, brother?"

It finally dawned on Legolas that he was indeed looking for someone. "Yes," he confirmed.

"Who?"

Legolas was about to shrug when Galsila leaned forward from her seat beside Linnethuil. "He is looking for Buffy."

"Yes," Legolas nodded. "That is who I am looking for."

"But Legolas," his mother chimed in. "She stands over there."

Legolas followed his mother's pointed finger to a young woman with flowing blond hair, standing gracefully in a light blue dress with flowing sleeves and white trim. She seemed to feel his gaze on her, for she turned and flashed him an inviting smile.

Suddenly, the world seemed to feel very right with Legolas, despite some discomforting differences. He glided towards her with a wide smile that he could feel was hinging on the verge of being ridiculous. He stood in front of her and uncharacteristically took both of her slender hands in his.

"Buffy," he said, more to reaffirm himself that it was her rather than a greeting.

"Hello," she said lightly.

"You look..." he looked her up and down. "Stunning," he finished.

"You like it?" She began to turn, but something made Legolas grab her upper arm and stop her abruptly.

He stared at the side of her head. "Your ears," he whispered. "What have you done to your ears?"

She felt the prominent point at the top of her lobes, and looked at him quizzically. "Is something amiss?"

"Amiss," Legolas repeated. "You do not sound like yourself." He stared at the Elvish ears on Buffy, the flowing dress, the way her hair had grown two feet overnight. "What is this?" He whispered.

"Why are you upset?" Buffy asked. She looked hurt by his comment, as if she might burst into tears without a moment's notice.

Legolas studied her crestfallen face and softened. He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes. "Nothing. I was not expecting this change."

Buffy cocked her head. "Do not tell me you liked me the way I was. A mortal woman."

Legolas' eyebrows shot up. "Well, actually-"

Buffy's eyes grew wide and she stifled a sob. He quickly stopped talking and held her close to his chest. Buffy looked up at him. "But now we can be together," she said with a quiver in her voice.

Legolas released her roughly and stepped back. He looked around him, noting that the music had stopped. In fact, all sounds had stopped. Now all eyes were upon him, watching with fascination for his next step. He looked back at Buffy, whose eyes began to well with tears.

Legolas shook his head. "Not like this," he said quietly. "Never like this. This is not right. This is not you. You are the Slayer."

Buffy took a step towards him and he reflexively took a step back. "But that doesn't matter now. This is what matters. Us," she reasoned.

Legolas stared blankly at her. He couldn't form the words to express the turmoil in his heart. He glanced nervously at the crowd around him, feeling very claustrophobic suddenly. "I have to leave," he mumbled. "I cannot stay here." He turned and had to forcefully push his way out of the encroaching crowd.

"But Legolas," Buffy cried. "This is where you belong!"

****

A cool breeze embraced her cheek. She shivered, then awoke with a jolt. Her eyes popped open and she blinked the sleepy fuzz from her vision. Her head moved rhythmically up and down; it took a moment to realize that it was because her cheek was lying on someone's chest. Confused, she slowly lifted her head up. Legolas was sound asleep, with wide, unseeing eyes staring upwards into the navy blue sky. Buffy lifted herself up onto her elbows and stared at Legolas while he slept. She smiled as his eyebrows clinched together for a moment, then relaxed. She wondered if he was dreaming, and if so, of what. Or who.

She sat up and hugged her knees as another breeze chilled her skin. It suddenly occurred to her that she had no clue how they got here, or even where they were. The snow was gone. They were on an embankment beside a small, calm river; nothing like the one where they just were. The air was crisp, and an unearthly fog drifted lazily between the trees. She surmised that it was must be minutes before the sun was about to rise; the sky was fading from night into a pale blue. The hint of light on the horizon was trickling through the shear fog.

There was no noise in the forest, no sign of life besides Buffy and Legolas. She looked down and found that her borrowed tunic was missing; instead she was back in her original long-sleeved shirt. And the rip was gone.

"Okay," she mumbled. "When did that get fixed?" Disoriented and a little freaked out, she turned back to the sleeping form of Legolas. She nudged his chest and whispered his name urgently, but oddly the Elf refused to wake up. Worried, she lay her ear over his heart and with relief heard the strong, steady beat. But now she was more confused as to why he didn't wake up.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Something was behind her. Cautiously, she turned her head.

Across the river stood an Elven woman draped in a pale grey sheath with a matching cloak and the hood drawn atop her head. Her long, straight blonde hair flowed past her waist, where her hands clasped each other stoically. Her piercing blue eyes seemed to bore right through the Slayer, but at the same time her smile seemed inviting.

Buffy's Legolas-nudging turned into flat out shaking. "Wake up, please wake up," she pleaded. She leaned over him until she was mere inches from his face. "Legolas, now is really not the time to be sleeping on the job!" she yelled.

She swore she heard the woman call her name. She sat up and stared at the Elf who turned away from her but held out a beckoning hand. Buffy looked from the woman to Legolas, who still did not stir. She glanced at the river and back to the woman.

"I can't walk across that," she said, but wasn't sure if the woman would hear.

The woman nodded. Although she did not remember getting up, Buffy now stood in front of the woman. She looked back at the river, and now saw Legolas sleeping on the other side.

"Whoa," she said. "How-?"

The question hung in the air. Buffy turned back to the Elf who towered above her and smiled eerily at her. "Did you do that?" Buffy asked. The Elf nodded. "Neat trick," Buffy muttered. "Who are you?"

"My name is not spoken." Her voice was rich and melodic. Each word was eloquently spoken, but with a hint of power in the delivery.

"Why are we here?" Buffy asked.

"Only you can answer that question."

Buffy nodded very slowly. "Ah. I get it. This is one of those riddling dreams, isn't it? It's only if I ask the right questions that you'll actually give me a straight answer, right?"

The woman retained her ghostly smile.

Buffy nodded. "Thought so." She looked across the river. "So what's with him? Why isn't he awake?"

The Elf blinked at her. "It is not his dream."

The answer was so obvious that Buffy could have slapped herself. "Gotcha." She slapped her hands on her jeans before stuffing them into her pockets. "I get the feeling that I'm supposed to learn something. But I also get the feeling that you're going to make me work for it. Okay, I got one. Why are you here?"

The Elf looked across at Legolas. "You dream of him."

Buffy was puzzled. "Well, yeah. But that didn't answer my question."

"And so you dream of me."

Buffy swirled the words around in her mind. "So…you're like a part of him? Is that how it works?" The woman nodded slowly. "Wow. He's sure got a strong feminine side." She stopped and scrutinized the Elf with a frown. "Are you…are you his mother?"

She nodded.

Buffy's eyes widened as she began to piece the puzzle together. "Are you dead? Is that why your name isn't spoken?"

Again, she nodded.

Buffy turned to watch Legolas as he slept. "He never let you go," she said softly.

"No," the Elf agreed. "Therein lies your commonness."

Buffy twirled around. "Commonness," she repeated. The full meaning sunk in soon after. "You mean my mother. She died too."

The Elf nodded solemnly as if she knew Buffy's past intimately. It was somewhat unsettling for the Slayer but she brushed it off. Buffy stared at the ground, deeply in thought. "It's not that I can't let her go," she said quietly.

"You do not wish to," the ghost replied.

Buffy held the unwavering blue gaze of the Elf with her own. "It was too soon. There was so much happening...there still is. If it feels like she's still there, then I don't feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders. Even though-"

"At times it is," the Elf finished. She began to walk through the trees and Buffy fell in step beside her. "We cannot know the future, nor should we come to know it. All tragedies, great and small, may leave us with unanswered questions and doubts. Only through time may we come to understand our grief and the reasons for it."

"Reasons for what?"

"Death," came the plaintive answer. "Death has its purpose just as life does. Your mother and Legolas' mother were not meant to live one second more than they did. Even with your power you still could not have prevented it and neither could my son. Fate is stronger than the mortal coil."

Buffy smiled sadly. "But I thought Elves lived forever."

She smiled sadly back. "Only for some."

Buffy stopped walking and inhaled deeply. "So where does that leave us now? We both have issues; I get that. Why are we here though? Is this just a fluke, or is something supposed to happen? What is it that I'm supposed to discover here?"

The Elf seemed to be lost in thought, for it was a few minutes before she answered Buffy's stream of questions. "Perhaps it is not what is here that you are to discover. Perhaps it is what you left behind."

Buffy felt something inside her break down. She had been denying it since she first arrived, and now it came flooding to the surface. She choked back a sob and took a few refreshing breaths. "It's not easy being told that you're supposed to save the world from things that nobody else believes in. Your parents yell at each other every night, you don't do so well in school, you worry about wearing the right clothes otherwise you're ostracised for the year, and then on top of that you have to lie to your parents about where you were the night before. They think you're on some date they don't know about, when really you're hanging out in the cemetery killing demons." She looked around, as if searching for the spying eyes in her moment of weakness and unadulterated truth. "I don't mind the responsibility," she reasoned. "I never did. In fact it's a great stress relief sometimes. But sometimes...I don't want to be in a world where I'm the Slayer." Her breath caught in her throat and she stared at the forest floor, commanding herself to hold the emotions inside.

The Elven woman took a step in towards Buffy and placed a lithe hand on her shoulder. "No matter where you are, you will always be the Slayer."

Buffy nodded, but refused to look up.

"Demons exist everywhere," she continued. "Some are quite obvious, some are deviously alike to ourselves. We all have different ways to fight them. Some will fight, some will submit, some will pray for a saviour. But no matter where we are, we can never outrun them. Nor can we escape our lives. The memories and tragedies of our lives are what keep us where we are. Without them we have no home, no identity."

The clarity infused Buffy's mind. "I don't belong here," she whispered.

"No matter where you are, you will always be needed. But there are some needs that are more important than others are. Those needs cannot be fulfilled here."

Buffy nodded, finally understanding. She looked back at Legolas. "What about him?"

A grave look overtook his mother's fair face. "He will be needed more than ever. But I fear that it will be many years before he truly finds peace, both in the waking world and in his own heart."

"What about love?"

She lightly touched Buffy's cheek. "He will forsake it for duty, just as you will."

Buffy sighed. "What a victimised pair we make."

"You are kindred souls. Blessed with warrior skill, integrity, and loyalty. The noble path however, is not without its sacrifices. Yours will be greater than most. But yours is founded on the greatest of needs."

"How so?"

The Elf shimmered, then began to fade. Buffy reached out to her, to touch her in the hope of keeping her in the physical world, but her body was transparent as mist. "The need for a hero."


	15. While You Were Sleeping

Aragorn crouched on his haunches, rolling cloaks and mats along the ground into a tight, compact ball. His brothers worked silently, tightening the straps on the horses and covering any trace of the small campfire. Elrohir threw a wayward glance at the tent where Buffy and Legolas still slept. Despite the other three having been awake for at least an hour, the two invalids hadn't shown any sign of rising anytime soon. Elladan caught Elrohir's glance and nodded, thinking much the same thing. The two turned to Aragorn.

"How much longer can they possibly sleep?"

Aragorn shrugged nonchalantly, but inwardly he knew that they should have awoken by now. He shook his head as he surmised that they needed whatever rest they could take now; there would not be any time for sleep in the near future if they were to make it back to the kingdom in time for a heroic rescue. Aragorn stood with his supplies tucked underneath his arm. He walked up to his two brothers and passed Elladan his pack, ready to be strapped to his horse.

Elrohir looked off into the distance. "See how the storm moves off," he murmured.

Aragorn nodded. "And straight for the kingdom."

The two Elven brothers stared at him. "We will not make it in time," Elladan said with dread tainting his voice.

Aragorn knew Elladan was correct. He also had to wonder just how much of an impact five could make to turn the tables in Mirkwood's favour. But his loyalty to Legolas and to all Elven-folk in general made Aragorn's mission steadfast. They would make it back to Mirkwood. They would fight until death took the better of them. But how to get there in time...

He had been staring at the river, lost in his thoughts when the mad idea struck him. "The river..." he whispered.

Elrohir glanced at the river. "Yes, it is very pretty. But how-" Elrohir stopped mid-sentence and stared at the river with a slack jaw.

Elladan, in turn, was staring at Aragorn with wide eyes. "That is foolhardy! Sheer madness!"

Elrohir was nodding vigorously in agreement. "How would we get down it? We do not have the luxury of boats and I hardly think we have the time to fashion some sort of raft."

Aragorn shook his head. "No boat, no raft. We swim with the current."

"SWIM?!?!" The Elven brothers exclaimed.

Excited with his own idea, Aragorn began pacing around the camp. His brothers followed his every step right on his heel.

"Aragorn, this is madness," Elladan reasoned. "We will all drown long before we ever reach the kingdom."

Aragorn stopped abruptly and the two brothers bumped into him roughly. "We are all excellent swimmers," he threw an eye to the tent where Buffy slept and realized he was partly assuming his statement. "Besides," he looked back at Elladan and Elrohir, "Elves cannot drown. You naturally float no matter what the circumstance."

Elrohir blew out his breath noisily. "Yes, well, I am so glad that you have confidence in our abilities, but what of your own? Are you so certain that you can stay afloat that long? The cold alone will probably kill you."

Elladan nodded with his brothers thinking. "Yes, and what of the girl? Can you speak for her as well?"

Aragorn stared at the river, mesmerized. He began to nod, slowly at first, then with more certainty. "Though we may not share the same blood, we are all warriors. She will make it." He clasped his brothers' shoulders and drew them in close so that they would see the determination in his eyes. "We all will." He released them and stalked away to the banks of the river, surveying it with a keen eye.

Elrohir sighed and shook his head as he walked in the opposite direction. Elladan searched the camp for another excuse not to partake in the crazy scheme, and settled on one. "Yes, but what of the horses? Are they to swim as well? Do think of the horses, Aragorn."

Aragorn waved the excuse away. "They know the way home. They will be fine."

Elladan grunted as he realized his overwhelming defeat. He looked to the sky with an exasperated groan. "Eru, give me strength."

* * *

The rolled mat beneath her head that served as her pillow was damp from her tears. That was the first thing she noticed. The second thing she noticed was that she was now undoubtedly awake and where she should be. She lay curled on her side, huddled underneath a swath of warm blankets and cloaks, and for a few minutes she stared at nothing while she attempted to recuperate from her dream. She took stock of the voices outside; Aragorn and his two Elven brothers sounded like they were in the midst of an argument, and she listened to the hushed silence inside the tent. She concentrated on the methodical, soft breathing of Legolas. She lifted her head to watch him as he slept.

He lay on his back without the comfort of blankets like Buffy had. His hands were clasped in front of his stomach and his eyes stared straight upwards. She smiled at the proper regal-like pose he possessed even in his sleep.

Clutching a few of the layers about her shoulders, Buffy shuffled closer to Legolas. She sat over him and stared down at his porcelain face. She examined the slight part in his lips and the piercing gaze of his blue eyes. A small tendril of blonde hair had fallen loose from one of his braids and now hung limply over his brow. Without touching his skin, she swept it aside tenderly. Giving into an impulsive urge, she let her fingertips graze his defined cheekbone.

He blinked, still staring upwards. Then his breathing shifted slightly and his eyes began to wander. They finally settled on Buffy, and a bright smile lit up his face.

"Good morning," he said quietly.

"How did you know it was morning?" She asked.

"Either the campfire is unnaturally large, or the sun is up," he explained. "It was a guess," he consented.

Buffy flushed with embarrassment. "Stupid question," she mumbled.

He lifted his arm and let his hand rest on her cheek. She leaned into it and closed her eyes for a moment. Legolas studied her face. "Are you well?"

Buffy began to nod, then stopped and shrugged instead. "Bad dreams. You?"

Legolas' hand dropped from her cheek. He glanced at his arm and gave it a rub, nodding. "Much better. Aragorn is a skilled healer." He began to sit up. "The others are up. We should join them."

Buffy placed a hand on his chest. "Can we not?"

Legolas gave her a puzzled glance. She felt silly, but decided that the outside world could wait just a few more minutes. "Can we just...lie here, for a bit?"

He seemed to read something in her troubled frown, and even more, he understood it. He nodded, then lay back down on his side. Buffy lay beside him, drawing the blankets around her. She was surprised when she felt his arms pull her in closer to him, and even more surprised when he left his arm around her waist. He brushed the hair off her neck and nestled his head close to hers. When she closed her eyes, she could feel his soft breath like a whisper on the back of her neck.

For the first time in a long time, Buffy felt at peace.

* * *

The sweaty summer night made the notion of coffee odd, but for the Scoobies somehow odd never played a pivotal role in their decision-making process. The gang sat on high stools around a small round table sipping their lattes, or in Xander's case, slurping noisily on an iced cappuccino. Outside the cafe, Willow talked excitedly on her cell phone, gesturing wildly into the night air with one hand. The others didn't take much notice of her; quite the opposite as they sat with hunched shoulders and a dead look in their eyes, barely noticing each other. Unintelligible fits of conversation came and went without anything new being said.

"Please tell me the vampires have the night off," Anya moaned.

"Unless it's Halloween," Xander made a dramatic show of checking his watch, "which it's NOT, then no. Vampires are the hardest working demons out there. They got munchies worse than a college frat boy on a twenty-hour dope-smoking binge."

Tara nodded approvingly at Xander. "Highly descriptive."

Xander shrugged nonchalantly and went back to sucking down his iced cap.

Willow galloped back into the cafe and sat down beside Tara with a beaming grin. "That was Giles; they're on their way back. And they have good news."

The Scoobies looked expectantly at Willow who eyed her cup of hot chocolate. She took a satisfying gulp, completely oblivious to the stares of everyone around the table.

Anya slammed her hands on the table abruptly; startling Willow and making her jostle her mug. Hot chocolate jumped out the cup and splattered onto Willow's pants. Willow looked questioningly at Anya.

Anya threw her hands into the air. "What's the good news already?"

"Oh!" Willow said with a smile. "They found a spell. Or someone who knew a spell. Or who could decipher a spell. I don't know. But they know how to get Buffy back."

Collective sighs of relief went up around the table. Dawn looked like she was ready to cry.

"Well, it's not that I didn't enjoy it, but this substitute-slayer business just wasn't my thing," Xander said.

"Good," Anya muttered. "Don't quit your day job. And by that, I mean that you aren't very good at slaying vampires. You should stick to what you're good at. And you aren't good at slaying."

Xander held a hand up in front of Anya's face. "Thank you for spelling that out, sugarlips. Now if you all don't mind, I'm going to try to reclaim my manhood."

Anya looked puzzled. "How?"

Xander glowered down at her. "By getting myself a beer. But thanks for catching on with my sarcasm. You have an amazing ability of making a boy feel good about himself. In a patronising, drill-sergeant sort-of-way." He lowered himself from the chair and strode over to the counter with his hands jammed into his pockets. He scanned the chalkboard that hung above the cashier, which served as the menu. "Huh," he mumbled aloud. "No beer."

The cashier's nose wrinkled at him. "Uh, no. We're a coffee shop, not a bar."

Xander waggled his finger at her. "Someday, with the right type of legislation, somebody's going to change all that."

The cashier rolled her eyes at him and walked over to the next customer. Xander chewed on his fingernail as he fought with himself over what to order. He distantly heard the hoarse voice of the customer next to him, but didn't pay much attention until he heard the man say: "Got anything in O negative?"

Xander turned his head slowly, just as the cashier screamed. The customer turned to Xander with the familiar creased forehead and yellow eyes of the vampire breed. He grinned, showing Xander the gleaming canines of his enlarged teeth.

Screams erupted all over the cafe. Xander whirled around, seeing the streams of frightened patrons who ran for the door, being manhandled as more vampires strode in. The streets crawled with them; some still shaking the dirt off their funeral suits.

The vampire smiled at him. "I know you."

Xander pivoted back to him with wide eyes. He didn't have any weapons on him. "You don't say," he said quickly, nervousness making his pitch slightly higher. "Did we go to summer camp together?"

The vampire took a step in; Xander took a quick step back. The vampire shook his finger in Xander's face. "You're one of the Slayer's buddies."

Xander held up his own finger. "Yes, you are correct. ONE of the Slayer's buddies. She's got lots. And they're all in the vicinity. And they're ARMED." He glanced back at the girls who were looking about them with obvious fear. "And I sure hope at least one of them is suffering from pre-menstrual syndrome," he added.

The vampire gave a throaty chuckle. "I hear the Slayer couldn't hack it. That true?"

Xander looked at the vampire with unease. "Oh no," he said, still backing away. "She can hack."

The vampire took a menacing step closer. "I hear she packed up and left town. Some say she may even be dead."

"You shouldn't listen to rumours. They only hurt yourself." By now, Xander's voice was just a whisper. He had backed all the way into the table where the girls stood nervously covering each other's back.

The vampire shrugged. There were three others behind him, licking their lips as they hungrily eyed the prey in front of them. "If it wasn't true, wouldn't she be here by now?"

The Scoobies backed up as one, as the vampires began to close in. The wall behind them impeded any further escape. Xander glanced from the frightened faces of the girls, to the chaos outside the shop, to the grinning faces of the vampires in front of him. "Oh crap," he whispered.

Someone slugged him brutally across the chin.

* * *

Galsila ran through the caverns' many arched hallways with graceful ease, fear and determination making her light tread resemble that of a gazelle. She had become the unofficial courier for her father, the healers, and the guards. She had made arrow runs to the archers on the pediments of the high gate, she had run messages from her father to his counsel, and now she was running spare bandages to the healing ward which was preparing for an onslaught of wounded Elves.

She was scared, although the fear was not for her own safety. More than that, she feared for the many young that may perish in the battle to come, and of those still outside that might never make it back. Her brothers came to mind, but she would not allow the tears that sprang to her eyes at the thought of them to fall. She would not cry, would not show an ounce of weakness, at least until after the battle was fought. Then, whatever the outcome, she would shed as many tears as she liked.

She stormed through the doorway of the healers and stopped abruptly when she saw the tall, willowy Elves hurrying about with a purpose she seemed to lack at the moment. She fought to catch one of their glances, but none took notice of her presence.

Finally, Melkar took his eyes off the vials of herbs jumbled in his hands to look at her. His forehead creased. "Galsila," he said with surprise. "Why are you not with your sisters?"

The royal family of Elven maidens had been ordered to the most secure of the caves, deeply underground, its knowledge hidden entirely but for the King and his closest advisors. Galsila, like most others of her kind, despised the caves. To be shut off from all light and sound; she shuddered at the thought. She would prefer to see death coming straight for her than to be ignorant of it altogether. But she did not reveal any of this to Melkar.

"I bring linen for the bandages," she said as she unwrapped the bundle she had carried with both arms. "As much as every family could spare."

Melkar nodded approvingly. "I fear we will need it." He began to categorize the bandages according to length. As he lined them up, he watched Galsila, noting her wide eyes and the paleness of her cheeks. "You have done well, Galsila. But I must insist you seek safety."

Galsila slowly met his grey eyes. "I will," she tried forcefully.

But they both knew it was a lie. Melkar placed a strong hand on her shoulder and bore deeply into her eyes. "If you hear the cry of the undead, hide."

Galsila swallowed. She had never seen a Nazgul, but she remembered vividly the tales her brothers had told to make her cower with fear as an Elfling. Then with the loss of her brother...she shook the thought away. The Nazgul would not make it past the front gate. Her father's regiment would stop them long before.

* * *

"The gate will not hold, my Lord."

Thranduil listened in stony silence to Calenuil's forewarning. He knew that his brother's words were truthful. The snowstorm made visibility virtually impossible, and on top of that, the attacking army would travel with the wind. Even with their keen Elven eyesight, his archers would not see the Orcs until they were knocking on the front gate.

Even so, he would not share his doubts. "It will hold," he shot back. He turned and faced Calenuil with a determined stare. "If I must brace it myself, then so be it. Mark my words; it _will_ hold."

Calenuil, after this many centuries, knew better than to argue with Thranduil's convictions. Instead, he gave a curt bow and left the counsel room. Thranduil was left alone to ponder his people's survival chances. He sat on the throne, entirely immobile as if chiselled freshly from marble.

More than once he found his thoughts wandering to those that had not yet returned. A dark feeling in the pit of his stomach warned him of the possibility, but his steadfast will refused to give any ground to his feeling. They were alive; all of them. If they weren't...

He closed his eyes against the thought. He knew in his heart that he could never lead his people again if his sons had perished. The fight would be lost before it even began, and it was for this reason he pushed the thought away; he pushed all thoughts of his sons away, so that he might concentrate on what was about to transpire.

At that moment, Calenuil came galloping back into the throne room. "Thranduil, you must come."

In one fluid movement, Thranduil was up off the throne and gathering his long green cloak around him. "What is it?"

Calenuil hurried in front of him, glancing back quickly as he spoke. "The archers at the gate...they cannot be certain, but some of them say..."

"Yes, what is it?" Thranduil prompted impatiently.

"They thought they could see horses with riders. Moving quickly. But the snow and the wind makes it difficult to be sure."

The thought began to churn in Thranduil's mind, but he asked the question anyway. "Who do they think it is?"

They reached the double arched doorway of the cavern, and Calenuil flung both open with a strong push. The wind battered the snow against their faces; they had to cover their heads with an arm as they fought their way to the front gate. "It is either the cursed ones, or..."

They loped up the slim stone steps to stand beside two of the archers poised on top of a pediment with arrows notched and ready. Thranduil concentrated his eyesight into the distance, squinting with the strain. He straightened suddenly, and a sigh of relief relaxed his body.

_Legolas._

* * *

The double swinging doors of the emergency room entrance flung open with a slam from the metal stretcher that was wheeled in. On it lay Anya, unconscious, bloody, and shallowly breathing through an oxygen mask. Xander held her limp hand and trotted beside the stretcher, ignoring the constant pawing of an ambulance worker who tried to mop up the stream of blood that trickled freely from a wide gash above his eyebrow.

Behind him, Willow supported a heavily leaning Tara who clutched at her ribs and hobbled with a pronounced limp. Willow sported a bloody nose and a sprained wrist that she tried not to jostle.

Behind them, Dawn staggered wide-eyed and shaken. Physically she was fine. But mentally, she felt barriers breaking down one by one in her mind. With Buffy gone, the vampires became bold. They attacked in gangs in the open and well populated; no longer were they slinking independently in the shadows of abandoned alleys. They were cocky, bullying, and they even seemed to be dressing better.

She stood in the intersection of a hallway jammed with beds that held moaning and alarmingly pale patients on them. Those that couldn't find a bed crouched, holding their torn and battered parts, others wandered dimly, resembling Dawn's own state; lost.

"Dawn."

Dawn looked up to see Willow holding a door open.

"We're in here."

Dawn nodded once and made her way over to the room where beds filled with the injured were separated by flimsy curtains. Nurses ran full-tilt in and out of the rooms, carrying plastic bags filled with blood, plasma, and saline solutions for iv's. Dawn felt helpless and completely out of place.

Tara had carefully crawled onto a bed, wincing and hissing as even the most delicate manoeuvres sent waves of grinding pain through her ribs and leg. Willow brushed Tara's hair out of her face and looked around fervently for anyone with a stethoscope. Two nurses hovered over Anya while Xander paced at the foot of her bed, chewing on his nails.

"Where's the doctor?" Willow asked, her voice rising a few pitches as anxiety took control. "Dawn, have you seen a doctor yet?"

Dawn was about to respond when Willow stormed from the room, yelling blindly over her shoulder that she was going to find a doctor.

Dawn looked at Tara. She was leaning back against the propped up pillows with her eyes clenched shut and her breath coming in slow and painfully controlled gasps. Dawn approached the bed tentatively and patted Tara's hand in an attempt to be comforting. Tara opened one eye and tried to smile at Dawn.

"Thanks," she whispered.

Dawn glanced at the chaos taking hold of the world around her. "I don't know what else to do," she admitted.

Willow made a futile attempt to grab the attention of any person wearing a white lab coat, a nametag, latex gloves, or scrubs, but they all bypassed her without glance. She was at the point of considering some sort of hypnotising spell when a familiar voice made her stop in her tracks.

"Dear God."

It was quiet, but so eloquently spoken that Willow pivoted sharply and scanned through the hordes of wounded that continued to stream in. Finally, she spotted him, mouth agape and one hand reaching for his glasses to take them off.

"Giles!" She yelled.

He spun towards her voice and ran up to her. "Are you alright? Are you injured? Where are the others? How did this happen?" He glanced around with arms flung to his sides. "_What_ happened?"

"Fine. Not so much. In there. Don't know." She shrugged with an exhausted frown. "Vampires."

Giles mouthed the word _vampire_, then let his head fall back as reality set in. "They know the Slayer is missing."

"That's putting it in a nutshell," Willow muttered miserably.

"What the bloody hell happened in here?" Spike announced himself.

"This looks like a war zone," some guy in a wheelchair exclaimed.

Willow looked quizzically at the man. He caught her glance and extended a hand which she took gingerly. "How do you do? My name is William. Old friend of Rupert's. It's actually quite an interesting story as to how we met-"

"Which, unfortunately, we don't have time to hear right now," Giles finished quickly. He gave all three a resolved stare. "We can't waste any more time. We have to return Buffy. Now."


End file.
